#literally we had tiles that were broken in the bathroom when my friends moved in

[illogicalvulcans]

suffering (submitting a reasonable maintenance request for a problem that is absolutely my landlord's responsibility to fix)

#mine is decent but i still hate writing up maintenance requests after an old prop manager who like did not listen to them at ALL #like i'd submit an issue and she'd be like okay someone is coming to fix that!! and then a technician would never fuckin show up #literally we had tiles that were broken in the bathroom when my friends moved in #and by the time all of us moved out ~3 years later they STILL weren't fixed #also took them like two months to fix the oven (before i moved in) when it broke one time for no reason i ever heard?? #and it wasn't a matter of them ordering a new oven and getting hit by delays bc it was the same oven the whole time #just a bad prop mgmt company #and my current prop manager is SO much better but i have lingering trust issues re: actually getting maintenance requests #addressed in any kind of reasonable timeframe #also yeah sorry this post format has taken over my brain recently appreciate your patience with my (parenthetical sidenotes) #illogical rambles

[sab3rto0thed]

i have intimacy issues, i said. i had woken up and shoved my finger down my throat, trying to vomit the year and a half away.

my best friend gave me a very sardonic look. "no way," she said. "you?"

we were at the restaurant that my mom worked at. her tone dripped with sarcasm. i ordered chicken tenders for the both of us, because it came with a biscuit. we were those type of girls, the insufferable ones: chicken tenders with a biscuit and a side of waffle fries. it was like taking coke.

i had texted her that morning. "hang out," i had said. two words. there hadn't been much else to say. i didn't want to explain to her that i was curled up on my bathroom tiles, even though i knew she would figure it out soon enough. i was shaking before i even got her in car.

i wasn't used to reaching out for help. for years, i had been the one everyone turned to. my friends, my parents, my exes. i had been everyone's number one. my desperation fit perfectly into the palms of my hands. nobody knew anything about me.

"i don't know how to talk about it," i told her. i felt sick to my stomach.

her name was shelby; and our other friend, allie, was meeting us there. everyone on tiktok says that trio friend groups never work. i mentioned this to shelby once. she smiled a little, said, "yeah, well, i've never seen another trio group work like ours."

when allie came, she finished the chicken strips and got another order of waffle fries for the car.

"just start, soph," she said.

we had known each other for about two years now, and they didn't know everything about me. it was that week at the restaurant that i finally gave in all the way. they knew most things about me. the embarrassing stuff, the grim stuff, the stuff that made me happy. they knew i wrote. they knew i liked making a scene. they knew i was extremely defensive; i just hid it well.

they had actually never seen me date anyone in the entire time we had been friends. two years. that was fairly linear, because my dating life crumbled at my feet right after i met them. i couldn't talk to anyone. i would get scared. when i got scared, there were two things for me to do: get mean or run away. i didn't like either of those options anymore.

they didn't know what i was into; girls or boys or neither. they didn't know if i had a crush on our mutual friend noah; or if i was just foolish about him, the same way i had been since i was fourteen.

"i don't know how to start," i told her. the situation was grim. i was terrified of being judged the same way i had thought about myself for two years. i felt dirty. i felt gross. i did not want shelby to see me like this, even though i had literally cried all over her bedroom floor a few days before.

shelby and allie were leaving for college in about two weeks. i had let a boy touch me for the first time in two years. the two teachers that had saved my life were now back in the country. i would see them in twenty-two hours.

it was all fucking surreal. everything came in pairs.

"just start," she told me again. she spread jam on her biscuit. she watched me expectantly.

i could never say no to her. not after everything.

there were three parts to the way i loved. by the end of the day, she knew all of them.

when i met shelby and allie, i had just turned seventeen. i had also just broken up with my first boyfriend and lost all of my friends because they had been compliant when i was in danger. they all moved to california. i stayed in the same place, in the same spot, nothing and no one. i started going to school because i had nowhere else to go.

i was reckless in the worst way, obnoxious on purpose, knife-wielding and angry. like i said: when i got scared, there were two options. right then, i was getting mean.

shelby and allie were not important to me. the only people that were important to me were in fucking los angeles, and i had no idea what to do with that. i felt a little sick to my stomach. existing made me want to puke. i wanted to hang my liver on a string and mail it to them.

i hated everything about myself. you would never have known.

it went like this: i was around shelby and allie every day. their annoyance grew into fondness. they came to my house. we went to prom together. we went to the carnival. when i got a headache, they sat with me. i apologized over and over. i wasn't used to taking up space. i cried on the ferris wheel.

things were too serious. i pulled back. i was running away.

you know too much about me, i told them. that never lasts. people never know me and stay. i was starting to care about them. this was all supposed to be a joke, a temporary cure to my never ending bitterness. it wasn't supposed to get serious. i was shit at all relationships.

"soph," shelby said one night, absolutely exasperated. "if you want to end the friendship, then block us on everything and we'll never come over again. if you're not going to do that, then shut up about it."

i was terrified. i was so scared. i learned a new setting: sitting with my fear. taking risks.

staying.

the next time shelby came over, she hugged me so hard that she lifted me off my feet. and that was that.

things never settled. we started our senior year, and i got angry again. my body, always rebelling. i began to ignore them. i tucked my head between my elbows. when we had class together, i was first in and out the door. we stopped speaking.

"i don't know what to do," i told my old friends. the ones reminiscent of california. "i care about them so much. i feel like i should just disappear."

my old friends just looked at me. their only solution was this: go away.

well, i had learned it from somewhere.

i didn't disappear. the next year, we went to prom together again. my eyeliner was shitty. a few weeks after, give or take, shelby had sat on my couch and beamed at me. she said, "i'm very glad you didn't kill yourself. i'm very proud of you."

my false bravado was always nonexistent with them. when i was too quiet in class, allie was texting me. we knew everything about each other. we took care of each other. they were my best friends.

i did not disappear. my old friends kind of hated me for that. for once, i didn't care.

we spent all of summer together. we saw movies. we had birthday parties. it was all so intimate. i was with them every day. my family was no longer a barrier. they were the most important people in the world to me.

they were leaving for college in two weeks.

that night, after the restaurant, i drove to the town that neighbors the town that neighbors ours. i wandered around the grocery store, feeling blank and unknowable.

shelby texted me. she knew something was wrong. she always knew.

i went over. i bought us both starbucks. i laid a bag of apricots on her floor. later, she said my eyes were glazed over. i couldn't remember the last time i had been so hurt. everything was ending. i had been intimate with a boy. my favorite teachers were too close again. i could no longer write to them. i had no idea where i would stand when it was all over.

she offered me pajamas. we put my contact lenses into two separate shot glasses, because i hadn't brought any of my stuff. i didn't really sleep over with my friends. it was foreign to me. it was too intimate.

when i woke up, she looked at me. i could tell she was feeling my mood out. it was eight in the morning. the light was coming in through her bedroom window. her hair was a curtain of blonde.

she offered me a smile. "i like your hair in the morning. it's very fluffy." she ran a hand through it to prove her point. sure enough, it was standing straight up.

everything was gentle again.

two weeks later, we said goodbye to allie. i had wanted to say something sentimental, but there had been nothing to say. they both knew how i felt about them.

the next night, i was at shelby's house until two in the morning. her room was torn apart. she fell asleep on her half-made bed. for a long time, i lay there next to her, on top of her heated blanket. i tried to memorize the curl of her eyelashes, the slope of her face.

i loved her. she and allie knew everything about me. there was nothing as intimate as that.

all night, shelby and i had been quietly sniping at each other. emotions were high, and we were very emotional people, no matter how much we pretended that we weren't. i had told her that i didn't want any of her stuff, because she was leaving. she looked unbelievably hurt. this was our way of processing: i ran away when i was scared, and she pretended it wasn't happening until it was over. we didn't have allie to balance us out.

i padded through her house quietly. i threw my orange soda away. when i returned to her bedroom, she sat up, eyes bleary.

"i thought you left," she told me.

i had thought about it, but i knew that i couldn't. it was like when suicide had crossed my mind a few weeks ago, a usual thing: i couldn't do that to them. they would be devastated.

it was new to me. for a long time, i had separated myself from them because i thought it was the noble thing to do. i was toxic waste. my family was toxic waste. my history was toxic waste. i didn't want to infect them. they were too good to me.

they knew everything about me. sometimes, it made my throat hurt.

she walked me out. it was the last time we would see each other until november. i had wanted to cry all night, but now it really hit me.

she opened her arms. i hugged her. we stood there for maybe a minute, holding each other. this was not the first time. i had never been as intimate with a person as i was with shelby and allie.

all of their friends were my friends. their lives were irreversibly intertwined with mine, and i would not have changed it. we were best friends. the world could be blown apart, and i would be okay as long as they were still with me. everything would be okay as long as they were still with me. everything was manageable. it was the most honest kind of love.

i shifted my head so it rested on the crook of her neck. we had both felt weird without allie. she wasn't twenty minutes away. she was gone. in another state.

when we pulled back, there was a tear glistening at the corner of her eye.

"are you crying?" i asked.

she turned away, so her face wouldn't be in the light. "no."

a few months ago, when the school year had ended, she had started crying when we were ditching class. "i just can't believe we're not going to be each other's best friends anymore," she had said.

i hadn't understood it then. i understood it now.

we stood there awkwardly. neither of us wanted to move. she said, "text me when you get home, okay? and then... text me forever."

"yeah," i said. my voice was a little hoarse.

i don't know how i walked to my car. shelby had this idea that when you start walking, you just can't stop. that's what i did. my legs moved of their own will.

she retreated into her house. when her door closed, i pressed my forehead to the steering wheel and ugly cried. i had never loved anyone as much as i loved shelby and allie.

it was a lesson in intimacy. they had taught me to be brave. they knew everything about me.

i loved them. i thought i always would, no matter what happened. there would always be a little corner of my heart dedicated to them.

they were my best fucking friends in the entire world. i wouldn't ever have changed it, no matter how much it hurt. i was glad it was ending this way. i was glad they were the ones leaving. i was going to text them forever.

they had reshaped me into a person. now, i would be able to look at college. i would be able to be someone.

i would never be able to thank them for that. there was no way to do it. i just let myself exist, in that car. i breathed for as long as i needed to.

leaving was not so terrifying. i wasn't angry or ready to run away. i was just me.

that was the best i could do.

[bonky-n-steeb]

𝐵𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚃𝚆𝙾

𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆!𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 | 𝙈𝙊𝘽!𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙑𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬:  Your life is as good as it gets. The perfect husband, the perfect daughter, the perfect job. But what you are unaware is that your husband is a deadly assassin and your long-lost friend, now a fearsome mob boss is hell bent on getting you back. But what you don’t know can't hurt you, right?

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦:  psychological disorder, PTSD, domestic abuse, yandere, obsession, violence, cursing. If you find any of this triggering please DNI. Also inform me if I left something out.

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ

My previous account was deleted so I’ll be posting the stories again. I’ll be changing this one, so yeah.

Inform me if y’all wanna be tagged!

You stared at the ticking clock, counting the seconds for his return, while Iris played with her stuffed tiger that her dada had bought for her. Her father was finally coming home after serving for a really long time in the military. Bucky was everything you had wanted and more. 

Though you both had a small and cute wedding when you were way too young, it still was one of the best days of your life. Since the day you had met him, he had been hell bent on joining the army as he somehow felt the need to protect people after what had happened to his father. So, after serving his first term, while you were still a second-year graduate student, he had proposed and you had accepted without wasting a second.  

Soon you had found yourself pregnant, during your pregnancy, he had been there for your every beck and call. You still remembered his face when Iris was born; it was filled with such adoration and love, you knew you wouldn’t have to worry about anything. Iris was literally the female version of her dad, her cute nose, her lips and most importantly her blue eyes; her eyes had played a small role in naming her.

Having a kid and completing your medical residency had been tough, but whenever Bucky was home, he took care of all the housework and kept Iris busy for as long as possible. Just one thing which you didn’t like was all this time he spent away from home and the immense risk that came along with being on active duty. But he wasn’t just your Bucky, was he, he was Sgt. Barnes, too.  

But now as you sat staring at the clock, you feared that when he returned, Bucky wouldn't be the same man he was. While on duty, there had been an explosion and he had lost his arm. Hearing his voice on the phone was enough to tell you that he was broken. You were waiting to take him in your arms and tell him that it would be fine.

Just then the bell rang and you quickly got up and unlocked the door. And there he was, his eyes without their usual luster, filled with unshed tears. As Iris ran towards him, he quickly scooped her up in his right arm. “dada! I missed you s’much” she said kissing his face. You wondered whether she didn’t notice or was simply ignoring his missing arm after you gave her a little ‘talk’ about it. “I missed you too Rissie! I love you my little princess!” he said smothering her with kisses. “I'm a Queen!” she exclaimed. “Alright your majesty. Now may I enter your palace and meet my wife?” Iris pretended to think and then exclaimed a yes.  

“Hey, don’t cry” he said as he dropped Iris down. You hadn't even noticed that you were crying. You quickly wrapped him in your arms and he held you tight, fearing that you might slip away. You both didn’t speak for a long time, you were too busy being buried in each other's neck, but then you felt the moisture collect on your shoulder. As you let go, you realized his dam had broken and he was crying too.  

“I love you Bucky bunny” you said playfully. Somehow long back, you had come up with this nickname while watching Looney Tunes; your magnificent brain had somehow morphed Bugs Bunny into Bucky bunny. He pretended to hate it saying it sounded like some porn stars name, and therefore you teased him even more. “I love you too.” he replied staring deep into your soul.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

As you both retired to your bedroom after ensuring Iris was fast asleep, you simply laid in bed without talking. Your hands were quietly exploring the same planes of his body you had travelled a million times over. You hesitated to touch his arm at first, fearing whether he was comfortable with it or not. But as you slowly began to trace the scars, he let out a long breath.  

You wished he didn’t have to suffer this; you wished all went to the way it was previously; you wished that his eyes shone just as brightly as they did before. But that didn’t mean you loved him any less now. Though throughout the day he pretended to be just fine, you knew he wasn’t even close to being fine.  

“Are you going to leave me?” he finally broke the silence. You couldn’t help but give him a confused expression, why would he ask that? “You don’t have to pretend. Not with me. Just say and I'll go. I don’t want to be a burden to you... ” you shut him up by kissing him. “I am not leaving you Buck. I’m gonna stick with you like an octopus.” you said chuckling. “Buck, we’ll go through everything and anything if we are together. I just want you to be happy. We'll make it work; we will find a way. And trust me when I say I love you more than anything.”

You spent the entire night, tangled in each other, telling him how much you loved and cherished him.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

You were tired and your back was aching after performing a long surgery. As you opened the door, you were greeted with the smell if your favorite dish being cooked in the house. As you walked straight to the kitchen you were stunned to see Bucky somehow managing to cook with Iris sitting on the kitchen counter. Though the kitchen was a mess, you weren't going to complaint, all you could see was the blinding happiness on his face.

“Look who is back! Guess what mama bear?” Bucky said joyously. You wondered what was the reason behind his joy. “Daddy is gonna get his arm back!” Rissie exclaimed happily. This wasn’t news to you though. You had talked to Bucky about getting a prosthetic arm and he hadn't been half this excited. Seeing your confusion Bucky responded “Well, I got a call this morning. They are not only giving me my job back but giving me a cool new arm. I'll be on duty again!”  

You weren't sure whether to be happy or sad. You were euphoric about Bucky’s job and arm but at the same time you were worried for his life. “That’s amazing Buck!” you hugged him tightly as Iris slipped between you two. Your eyes were filled with happy tears. He was happy and that’s all that mattered right now.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

FOUR YEARS LATER

You finally had a holiday from your hectic schedule as a surgeon. Iris was off to school and after some pushing you had persuaded Bucky to go get groceries. You wondered what had happened to Bucky. Something had changed after he got that arm, rather everything had changed. He wasn’t lively anymore, he got irritated at small things, stared off absently into space not responding to anything, he constantly looked behind his back, nor did he laugh at any of your jokes, you missed his laughter and that's what hurt you the most.  

Not to mention the horrid dead blank stare he gave you some days, intently looking at your every move like a predator, that thing scared the shit out of you. In the past two years not once you and Bucky had accepted Thor’s dinner invitations. You didn’t have many friends, you just had one, Thor. He was with you since your residency and you both worked together as trauma surgeons. Bucky and Thor had become quick friends too and the three of you went on many double dates. But that was a thing of the past. Now, whenever Thor invited you, Bucky simply came up with a stupid reason to not go. Bucky had become so closed off; he wasn’t the thoughtful and jolly Bucky you fell in love with.

Now that you finally had the house to yourself, you had decided to go on a cleaning spree. Currently you were in your bathroom; busy cleaning with your mop, when you accidentally slipped on some spilt soap water and ended up falling right beside the bathtub, your mop flew up and hit the ceiling tiles, thus displacing them. Suddenly a small diary fell right on your head. Placing your right hand on the ledge of the bath tub, you waited for everything to settle down and cursed loudly. “Fuck you, you goddamning son of a bitch! Everything had to fall on my head! Pathetic!”.  

You saw that you mop as now dangling on the bath tub and that stupid diary which had apparently fallen from heaven knows where was laying right beside you. As you looked up, you noticed the displaced tiles and realized that’s where this must have fallen from. As you picked up the diary you noticed there wasn't any dust on it, so there wasn't a chance that the previous owners might have left something in the false ceiling above. And it definitely wasn’t you, Iris was too small to keep something there; that only left Bucky. But why did he never mention this diary before. What exactly was he hiding?

As you opened the diary, you realized that you couldn’t understand a single word written. It felt as it was written in some highly complex code language. You were sure it wasn’t any language spoken everyday by sane humans. As you flipped through the pages you realized that every page was written in the same format. At the top was presumably some names written in the code and the rest was probably the information of that person.  

You wondered how did Bucky know this language? And why didn’t he ever tell you about anything, heck, he didn’t even mention it. And whose names had he written like it was the most confidential file? You got up and quickly closed the lid on the toilet and climbed up on it. You stuck your hand inside the hollow ceiling above to check if he was hiding something more.  

Your hand caught something and you pulled it out, only to realize it was a laptop. You wondered why he needed a second laptop when he already had one for work purposes in the home office. You took the laptop and the diary and sat down in the bathroom itself, so that if you when you would hear Bucky come you would simply put everything back up in the ceiling. You opened the laptop and saw it was password protected. You decided you would have two tries at unlocking the laptop and if you didn’t crack it, you would simply confront him.  

You first tried out typing Iris's name and her date of birth. But it was denied access. You thought for a minute more and entered your own name and your birthdate. And access was granted to you. You didn’t know whether to be happy that he had kept your name as his password or angry that he had been lying to you about whatever this was. As the laptop opened, you saw various files in it. You tapped on one and it seemed to open on a person’s resume. No, it wasn’t a resume, it was that person’s entire life history. It was like those files the assassins carried in movies with all the information about their target. You wondered what Jason Bourne shit this was.

As you read his name and saw the photos attached with it, you felt as if you had seen this person before. As you scrolled further, it finally clicked. A year before this person, who held a high position in the United Nations, was all over the news due to his untimely death caused by a heart attack. You had absolutely no interest in worldly matters, you already had a million problems on your head so you hadn't paid much attention and had not given a flying fuck. But now suddenly sweat was covering your forehead. You were worried sick as to why Bucky had all this information stored in a secret computer.

As you scrolled further, you almost reached the end of the file and that’s when you saw the video. With shaky hands you opened it. It seemed to be the security footage of that man’s bedroom and its resolution was pretty shitty. For the first few minutes all you saw was the man sleeping peacefully but as the video continued, you noticed it. The window in his room was slowly lifted as a man entered. He seemed to be dressed in tactical gear, his face was covered by a mask, but he was given away by one tell-tale sign. His arm. The metal arm with a red star on it glinted in the moonlight and you knew it was Bucky.

You watched as Bucky quietly walked towards the sleeping man. As he stood near the bed, he produced something from his pocket and bent down. As you strained your eyes, you saw that it was an injection. Your eyes widened as you clapped your hand around your mouth. That man hadn't died due to a heart attack, at least not natural. He was murdered by Bucky!

You opened another file, then another, they all were the same. In the beginning it was the information about the person, then a report as to how they died and then a video. All of them were well known figures; and all of them had been assassinated by Bucky. In one of the videos, you saw him choking the life out of a man with his metal arm and your mind wandered to the many times you would playfully tell him to choke you with the metal arm while fucking you; your hand unconsciously went to your throat at the thought.  

Then you opened a file titled: The Winter Soldier. That was weird you thought, the other files were given numbers but not names. As you opened the file, you realized it was Bucky’s own. Apparently, his codename was The Winter Soldier. Everything about him was stated in that file systematically. His background, his education, his military career and the worst of all, there were your and Iris’s photos too. As you continued to read, you realized he wasn’t working in the military anymore. Four years before, the people who had called him were from an organization named Hydra. The name and symbol itself sent chills down your spine. God, was Bucky so stupid, the octopus symbol itself screamed that Hydra was up to no good.

In the beginning, you couldn’t believe Bucky had gotten such a fancy and technological advanced arm. Looking at it you wondered how much it cost, the material and the functions would make it no less than a few million dollars. Now why would the government spend so much money on a sergeant, not that Bucky didn’t deserve it but you were curious.  

It felt as if he was hiding something from you. But you didn’t as ask as you knew he’d come around and tell you soon anyway. He needed time and you had plenty to give. But he never did. You had asked so many times whether the star was a tattoo of some sort and he had always deflected your questions. But now after reading this, you knew what all this was for. The arm, the pay raise, the irregular schedule, it was all Hydra. And Bucky was a professional assassin, and that too a deadly one.

Your eyes watered and bile rose to your throat as you saw a list, it was all the people he had killed, and the list was pretty big. You quickly placed the laptop besides you and began to puke your guts out in the toilet. In all the panic you failed to notice that a person was holding back your hair and soothingly rubbing your back.  

#chris evans #sebastian stan #mcu #marvel #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky #mob!steve #dark!bucky x reader #mob!steve x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader

[pendragonsandbuckleys]

Reclaiming that broken youth.

Summary: Michael had made it his mission to relive a small piece of the past with Alex. First he tried with the rings, two chunky black and silver things that he’d claimed had been left at the junkyard during his one of his shifts. Alex had simply joked that they weren’t his style anymore and left it at that.

The eyeliner had been a much harder sell and still Alex had refused.

And now, as he was ambling his way up the driveway, he was starting to think that maybe his third attempt would not be so lucky.

-

aka. Michael convinces Alex to let him dye his hair.

Word Count: 4,949

[Also on AO3] 

Was it embarrassing the number of excuses he’d found to come and see Alex? Yes.

Was he going to stop anytime soon? Not likely.

Nostalgia had been rearing its ugly head again leaving him craving a time long since passed and he’d been coming up with whatever reason he could to justify seeing Alex. Going to his house, or the Project Shepard bunker, or the Crashdown where he just happened to bump into him. 

The photo of the two of them had been moved from the cardboard box to the desk along with the few other pictures he treasured of Max and Isobel - he couldn’t make it too obvious after all. But seeing the two of them together like that often made him miss what they used to have. Things were so much simpler back then, until they weren’t.

The problem with nostalgia though was that the feelings weren’t real. They were an echo of what used to be that tended to leave an uncomfortable emptiness the longer you thought about it.

That time had passed and there was no getting it back. Unless?

Surely they didn’t need to be seventeen again to get that feeling back. That soft, carefree feeling that used to settle on their skin as they kissed in the desert.

That’s why he had made it his mission to relive a small piece of the past with Alex. First he tried with the rings, two chunky black and silver things that he’d claimed had been left at the junkyard during one of his shifts. Alex had simply joked that they weren’t his style anymore and left it at that.

The eyeliner had been a much harder sell and still Alex had refused.

And now, as he was ambling his way up the driveway, he was starting to think that maybe his third attempt would not be so lucky.

Three quick taps on the wood brought Alex to the door and he was so focused on the sight of him that Michael barely noticed the smile it brought to his own face. He was in full casual wear, t-shirt, jogging bottoms, matching bed hair sticking up in a perfect mess.

“Hey.” Alex welcomed him with a bright smile. If he was at all surprised to see Michael on his doorstep on an early Saturday morning with absolutely no warning, he hid it very well. His eyes darted over to see where the truck had been parked comfortably on the driveway, before flitting back to Michael.

“I thought we could have some fun.” Michael spoke with a smirk, forgoing any formal greeting, eyes already glistening with mischief. And oh how differently that sentence would have been taken when they were seventeen.

Alex was about to step aside without hesitation when he noticed the box held gently in Michael’s grip. He eyed it warily, already sensing the reasoning for the visit. “What is that?”

“Fun!”

“Um no, I believe that’s called hair dye.”

“Just hear me out.” Michael grinned as he confidently side-stepped his way through the doorway and into the house. “We haven’t hung out properly in a while and we both have the day off…”

Alex shook his head as he pushed the door closed behind him and followed Michael towards the living room. He never would have denied Michael entry, but there was something about him making himself at home that gave Alex a warm feeling in his chest. “See, you keep saying we but I don’t see a box of dye for your hair anywhere.”

“Yeah, well I never had an emo phase, did I?”

“The important word there being phase.” Alex crossed his arms against his chest as he peered down at Michael’s hands again. It was a white box with a bunch of writing on it, but the guy on the front was very clearly modelling the black dye inside. “You know I never actually used to dye my hair back then, right?”

Michael shrugged and waved his hand in the air as if to say whatever, we’re doing it anyway and handed the box over for Alex to get a better look. “You vetoed my other options so I’m stepping up my game.”

Alex watched him closely, noting how he squirmed slightly under his gaze. At first, when Michael had started dropping by a few weeks ago, always at odd hours, always unannounced, Alex had been worried. The ‘hanging out’ excuse could easily have been a guise, an easy escape from any problems he was avoiding and Alex didn’t know how long was best to let Michael hide from whatever was going on.

But seeing him now, wide eyes filled with an innocent sort of playfulness, it looked like Michael really did just want to spend time with him. Even if he did have the most random idea for a pass time. “Why are you so desperate for me to dress all emo again?”

“For…fun?”

Alex chewed his bottom lip to hide the small smile threatening to emerge. “I’m only off work for a week, you know.”

“That’s why it’s temporary.” Michael turned the box around in Alex’s hand and tapped at the words printed clearly on the back. “Three washes and it’s gone.”

“You’ve got an answer for everything, haven’t you?”

-

Michael wasted no time in getting them set up. He grabbed a spare plastic bowl from the kitchen cupboard, an old towel that Alex didn’t care about dirtying and set Alex’s shower stool in front of the large bathroom mirror. 

He should have been embarrassed by how excited he was getting, but he was far too busy being filled with said excitement to care. Against all odds, Alex had actually agreed to do this with very little persuasion required and there was no way he was letting him change his mind.

Alex didn’t interrupt as Michael rummaged his way around the house, finding what he needed and he certainly didn’t show his bemusement at how Michael seemed to know exactly where everything was. And once everything was ready, he took his place in the designated seat, strangely nervous at the thought of Michael dyeing his hair.

Though maybe it wasn’t nerves. He certainly had butterflies, though it could be from the thought of engaging in this teenage sleepover-esque activity. For the boy he liked to come over to his house and willingly run his fingers through his hair for the next hour? Seventeen year old Alex would have done anything for this.

“Right, tell me what to do.” Michael said as he pulled the instructions from the box and handed them to Alex before emptying the rest of the contents next to the sink. He’d probably end up doing it his own way, but he just wanted to give Alex an excuse to stop staring at him as he worked.

As Alex unravelled the instructions a small packet of gloves fell out onto his lap. They didn’t look the sturdiest but it was better than nothing. “There’s the gloves so make sure you wear them,” he said as he placed them next to the bowl.

He gave a quick skim read of the words to get a general idea of what do. There was a lot of writing and he doubted Michael would be patient for long enough to get through it all. “Oh okay, this sounds pretty easy, literally just brush it evenly through my hair.”

Michael nodded distractedly as he carefully fiddled with the lid of the tube. The room wasn’t exactly big and he’d already elbowed a wall with one arm and knocked the empty bowl to the floor with the other. Tripping over the towel had been an added bonus that Alex had enjoyed far too much. He had no idea where this clumsiness had suddenly come from, but now he was being extra careful with everything.

“Put it in gently. We don’t want it going everywhere.” Alex instructed him as he squeezed the dye into the bowl. The coal-black cream squelched as it left the tube and a small drop splattered onto the white tile wall which Michael hastily wiped with the back of his hand. It smeared across the wall at first until he managed to clean it all off.

With everything set up, he clamped Alex’s towel covered shoulders and beamed at him through the mirror’s reflection. “You ready?”

“Go for it.” Alex rolled his eyes at the enthusiasm radiating off Michael. Yep, he definitely felt like a teenager right now.

Michael started out slow. The dye was cool against his fingers as he scooped a blob into his palm. He knew Alex would be able to wash it out almost instantly if it ended up looking terrible, but still, he didn’t want to get it wrong.

He took a breath before reaching for Alex’s hair. Only now did it click just how intimate this activity was for two people who had barely done more than stand a few feet away from each other recently. He thought it would be a bit of fun, getting Alex to dress up in his old high school persona that they both used to love. But now, with the dye in his hand, he realised that meant running his fingers through Alex’s hair. An action that he used to love whenever they kissed. The smooth strands under his fingertips, pulling him closer when he could no longer control his urges.

But they were friends now. And friends dyed each other’s hair, right? Friends helped each other put on makeup or decided outfits if one was going on a date, so doing each other’s hair was no different from all of that.

The strands of hair slid across his palm easily, turning from dark brown to black with a single touch. It felt just as soft as it did ten years ago.

The room was silent as he worked save for Michael’s movements and the occasional hmm from Alex. Michael wasn’t sure if Alex realised that he was making the little noises but he was just glad he was finding it relaxing. The casual glances over Alex’s head and into the mirror showed that his eyes were closed, his lips curled into a small smile.

Michael was surprised by how much he was enjoying it himself. He was used to working with his hands all day, but this was different. Working on the cars was methodical, a heavy-handed muscle memory from years of experience, but this? This was gentle, personal.

It took about as long as would be expected to cover hair of Alex’s length and as Michael moved to the front so he could finish up the fringe, Alex opened his eyes to watch him work, “So really, what’s with all the emo stuff?”

Michael avoided the eye contact as he concentrated on turning the remaining brown into black. How could he explain that he was feeling nostalgic without it sounding sappy?

“It’s probably just some misguided attempt at reclaiming my youth.” He answered as he scooped more dye onto his fingers.

“Okay, but it seems more like we’re reclaiming my youth.”

“Yeah, well, this part of your youth was the best part of mine.” Michael replied without thinking, feeling the heat instantly rise up his cheeks at the honest answer.

The mortification was written so clear on his face that Alex forced himself to hold back a chuckle. They were still working on getting that openness back to their friendship, so for it to come out so easily every now and then was a nice step in the right direction.

“I actually always wanted to dye my hair back then.” Alex spoke up, steering into a new conversation to save Michael’s embarrassment. “It seemed like the next logical step for my fashion choice.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Getting the eyeliner passed dad was enough of a challenge and even then it was something I could take off pretty instantly if need be. I think the dye would have been too much of a risk.”

Michael felt a pang of sympathy for all Alex had to endure back then, he’d seen it firsthand several times all the way up until Jesse Manes’ death after all. But no. They weren’t going to dwell on that today. If they were reclaiming their youth then all unwanted memories were unwelcome and henceforth banned from all thoughts. 

He nudged Alex’s shoulder playfully as he moved back to the bowl. “And you didn’t have an expert hairdresser to do it for you.”

“That too.” Alex laughed, rolling his eyes as he heard the sound of yet another blob of dye dropping to the floor, “Though I didn’t expect my hairdresser to get it everywhere but my hair.”

Michael gritted his teeth with a frown as he looked down at the small black splatter, a glaringly obvious stain against the white. “Hey, that’s only the third time.”

He ran his hands through Alex’s hair for the last time, being careful to check that every strand was covered. The dye had already started doing its job beautifully and emo Alex was very much taking hold.

It was as he was stepping back to inspect his finished work did he notice just how much of a mess he’d actually made, sheepishly pointing out to Alex that there was some on the edge of the sink, a few blobs in the shower and it was on the wall in about four different places.

“How the hell did it get there, I didn’t even go near that wall.” Michael exclaimed, utterly confounded at the mess he’d managed to create. Had he been in his own head so much that his hands had taken on a life of their own? 

“It’s fine,” Alex laughed fondly as he nudged the bin closer with his foot. “Just put the gloves in there before you touch anything else.”

“…wait, there were gloves?”

Alex turned around this time to look at Michael properly. He hadn’t noticed the lack of gloves on the hands in his hair, but looking at them now he could see they were completely covered not by the plastic, but by a creamy black gunk. Michael had a mischievous look on his face, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he tried not to snigger and Alex could feel himself doing the same. “What is the first thing I said to you?”

“Put it in gently?”

They couldn’t hold back their laughter. Scrubbing his hands removed all but the faint grey tint now dyed into his skin, but Michael didn’t care. Maybe it was all the dye fumes, but it felt like he was on a weird kind of high. Here they were, two boys giggling away like they’d been caught making out in the supply closet at school and in that moment everything felt right with the world.

Leaning back against the sink Michael crossed his arms as he admired Alex’s hair from the front. Even slicked back against his head it was looking good but they still had twenty minutes to fill before it was ready. “So, what should we do while we wait?”

Alex slyly leant over to the bowl, still filled a quarter of the way with leftover dye and waggled his eyebrows impishly at the horrified look Michael was now giving him. “Come on Guerin, it washes out.”

It really was quite a small bathroom with nowhere to run so as Alex stood up to get closer, Michael backed away so much he practically fell into the shower. The laughter returned as he tried to hide as much of his hair as he could with his arms. “Nope. These curls are sacred and there’s no way you’re turning them black. The most you’d ever get on me is the eyeliner.”

Alex gasped gleefully, eyes wide with excitement as he watched it dawn on Michael what he’d just said. He opened the bathroom cabinet and there, at the back of the bottom shelf, was Michael’s latest gift to him. Still unused, he’d only kept it for sentimental reasons, a fond reminder of his past self, but now Michael had no excuse.

“Take a seat.” Alex batted his eyelids innocently as he gestured to the stool he had vacated and Michael had no choice but to comply. He always found it hard to deny Alex anything, but right now, he’d do anything to keep that joy in his eyes.

Alex hadn’t used eyeliner in over ten years. At age seventeen it had taken him weeks to perfect the art without smudging it or poking himself in the eye and when he first joined the military he often missed the soothing action of it. But now, a decade on, he still held the pencil with the hands of someone who would never forget how to use it.

Michael looked up at him expectantly from the seat, a slight tingling rushing through him as Alex held his chin to tilt it upwards. He’d never worn any kind of makeup before, never really had the urge to, but there was always a first time for everything.

There was something quite sexy about Alex knowing exactly what to do, telling him when to look up, when to blink, pressing the pencil down just enough to leave the colour on his skin, but not too soft that it tickled. His hands were very gentle as they held Michael’s face and he felt his mind wandering as he let Alex work.

“Guerin, stay still or it’s going in your eye.” Alex admonished lightly, tongue poking out as he concentrated. He was surprised by how steady his hand was being and he didn’t want to mess it up now.

He gave a few more strokes before stepping away, tapping the pencil against his chin as he admired his work with a grin. An eyeliner-wearing Michael was never a look he’d imagined before, but it sure was a look he was appreciating. It was a subtle change, but one that made Alex want to dress him in a leather jacket and start a rock band with him. “All done.”

Mourning the loss of Alex’s touch, Michael sighed as he got to his feet, knees popping as he stood up and leaned in close to the mirror.

He looked…different. Not a bad different, maybe even a good different. It made his eyes seem brighter and his lashes look darker and the longer he looked in the mirror the wider he could see Alex’s smile getting.

“Alright, I’ll give you this one. It doesn’t look too bad.”

“Right!” Alex was practically giddy as he stepped closer to look at Michael’s eyes through the mirror. Their hands brushed lightly as they both leaned against the sink. “I didn’t think it would look this good, but now I’m starting to wish you’d had this look in high school.”

Michael turned to face him then, bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes roamed over Alex’s face. Maybe this whole nostalgia thing wasn’t so bad when you had someone to share it with.

He grabbed the eyeliner from Alex’s hand before he could be stopped and held it above his head with an eager grin as if Alex couldn’t reach it easily. “Your turn.”

-

Michael had been banished to the sofa while Alex washed out the dye. He’d willingly volunteered to help but Alex wanted the finished look to be a surprise. Not that he could blame him. If it looked terrible at least it would give Alex the chance to kick Michael out of the house before he even saw it.

Not that that would actually happen, Michael had done an excellent job and the finished article would prove just that, thank you very much.

The muffled noise of the shower turning on and off filtered through the walls as he peered around the room. He’d seen the inside of Alex’s house enough times now to know the layout but not enough to know its contents. 

The colourful spines of the neat pile of books stood out against the brown of the table they were sitting on. Their titles were too small to read from across the room but it made Michael wonder what kind of books Alex read now. He’d never thought to ask in all the time he’d been back in Roswell. Did he still read fantasy books like the ones Michael used to see him get lost in for hours at a time? Or were they non-fiction, filled with facts about a world that Alex had always longed to explore.

There were a few plants dotted around the room which Michael was nerdy enough to know the names of. They weren’t the type that required much watering though Michael could almost picture a green-thumbed Alex taking care to provide them what they needed.

But taking up most of the space was a whole range of musical items. A turntable alongside a crowded box of records, because of course that’s how Alex liked to listen to his music. A pair of speakers on either of side of his keyboard, a thick black pair of headphones sitting atop the black and white keys. And guitars. So many guitars.

I mean come on, four of them in one room? Alex was practically begging him to pick one up.

Three of them were next to the keyboard, held neatly on their individual stands, but it was the guitar standing alone that caught his attention. It was leaning almost precariously against the wall, looking like it could slide to the floor at the smallest touch but he had a feeling it had been there for a while. It was the one Alex had tried to gift to him all those months ago, after all.

Before he could stop himself, he pushed off the sofa and edged towards the guitar. Its case had been unzipped just enough at the top to show the dark brown wood poking through and Michael didn’t hesitate to unzip it the rest of the way.

Plucking a few of the strings made Michael wonder if maybe Alex had played it recently. It seemed to be perfectly in tune. It had been a little while now since he’d held a guitar, let alone played one, but this one seemed to fit so naturally in his hands.

The faint whirring of the hair dryer could now be heard through the bedroom door and Michael couldn’t help himself. His fingers fell into place effortlessly and played a tune that he once played for Alex all those years ago. It wasn’t hard to remember, it was one of the only songs he actually knew by heart and the muscle memory of the notes hadn’t failed him yet.

As the strings vibrated under his fingertips, the rest of the world fell away, the soft melody filling the room. He’d missed this, the calm that would wash over him whenever he used to play and for a brief moment as his fingers slipped between the C and G chords he wondered why he ever gave the guitar back.

“Suits you.” Alex’s quiet voice interrupted the notes and Michael almost dropped the guitar in his surprise. He hadn’t heard the hairdryer stop, hadn’t heard the door creaking open but the way Alex was smiling at him told him he had nothing to feel embarrassed about.

The smile wasn’t what he was focused on though.  

The inky black hair had turned out so much better than he’d ever imagined. The dark strands contrasted his lightly tanned skin so starkly and Michael could tell that he had taken a few extra minutes to style it a little.

His eyeliner was mismatched and uneven - one eye having been done badly by Michael before Alex, fearing the idea of getting poked in the eye again, had confiscated the pencil and finished the second eye perfectly by himself.

He looked like his innocent seventeen year old self. 

But also not. His features were matured enough to set the illusion off-kilter just slightly.

He looked incredible.

Michael wasn’t sure when his legs had made the decision to stand up, but here he was, two feet away from Alex, staring at him with his mouth half open. Alex took the silence the wrong way though as he gave a nervous laugh, feeling his cheeks redden.

He anxiously rubbed the back of his neck and the movement knocked Michael out of his daze. He slowly dragged his eyes away from Alex’s hair and down to his lips, watching them form the words as he spoke. “It looks terrible, doesn’t it?”

Had Alex even looked in the mirror? Had he not seen what Michael was seeing right now? 

And it’s not even like the hair and makeup changed him that much. He’s looked beautiful the entire time Michael has known him, he just looked beautiful with his old style right this second rather than his new one. 

Maybe Michael just always thought Alex looked most comfortable in his seventeen-year-old style, it was a look he had precisely crafted for himself to best represent the person he was. The black jumpers with bold patterns, the makeup, the piercings. It was the look of a rebellious kid who didn’t want to fit in.

His current style was created through circumstance, through being forced to take on a duty that he never chose but has now made his own. And his style was his own now too, the muted colours much more reserved, but still his choice.

But now standing before him was a beautiful combination of both of those people and oh dear, he’s never really stopped thinking about Alex this way, has he? And more important, how long has he been staring at him without saying a single word?

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his throat had gone strangely dry.

“No.” He whispered in reply as he stepped closer, his feet making their own decisions again and he suddenly couldn’t stop himself. In that moment he couldn’t remember why he had been holding back for all of these months when the person he wanted most in the world was standing right in front of him.

He kissed him before he could stop himself, hands gently grabbing Alex’s face, feeling soft lips against his own. It felt like he was seventeen again, kissing for the first time in the darkened rooms of the UFO Emporium but as his hands crept up into Alex’s hair the sound of a distant car horn through the open kitchen window broke through his dream-filled haze and he realised what he had just done.

“Oh god, I’m sorry.” Michael stuttered out as he pulled away with a gasp, instantly embarrassed at how impulsive he had been. He bit his bottom lip as his eyes stayed trained on Alex’s chest, not daring to lift them any higher. In one tiny moment of weakness he had broken their agreement and he wanted to kick himself for how stupid that had been.

It had been decided that they would just be friends. No drama, no fighting and definitely no sex. The relationship between them would be strictly supportive and platonic and as much as Michael had longed for them to be something, he had agreed for the sake of keeping any kind of connection with Alex. And turns out, he couldn’t even give him that.

If he had looked up he would have seen the surprise on Alex’s face. Surprise that Michael had kissed him - sure - but more the surprise that Michael had pulled away so abruptly. And far too soon for that matter.

Before Alex could talk himself out of it, he took Michael’s face in his hands and kissed him right back. His heart fluttered as Michael instantly pulled him closer, softer this time, as if they both knew in that moment that there was no rush.

Michael’s entire body tingled, heat filling his chest as Alex lips parted with a tiny breath. He was hardly aware of what his own hands were doing, so desperate to never let go, his knees almost giving out as the rest of the world fell away, leaving them in their intimate, almost forbidden, moment.

As his fingers ran through the soft strands of the freshly dyed hair, Michael was reminded of every other time they had performed this same action, how natural this felt, how safe, like coming home.

“I would have let you dye my hair weeks ago if I’d known that’s all it would take.” Alex sighed as they parted, still only inches from Michael’s face, not daring to move any further lest the spell be broken. He hadn’t seen the day going this way when Michael had turned up on his doorstep with his mischievous grin but he wasn’t about to complain.

Michael gave a small huff of laughter at the unexpected comment, his hands itching to pull Alex closer. He had been wanting to do that for a long time, but he’d been good. He’d stuck to their agreement and given Alex the space to move on, no matter how many times he’d wanted to rebuild that abandoned bridge between them. But it seems the long awaited move had now finally been made and he didn’t have to hold back anymore.  

Because here Alex was, black hair, dark eyeliner, standing in front of him with that nervous post-kiss smile that Michael had missed for far too long and now he never wanted to let this moment go.

It seems today had definitely been third time lucky.

Very lucky indeed.

Thank you for reading 💜✨

#roswell new mexico #alex manes fic #michael guerin fic #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #malex #my fic

[collecting-stories]

3am Friend - c. 01 - Topper Thornton

Summary: Topper and y/n have been in a “friends with benefits” relationship since September but the line between friendship and something more are already starting to blur. 

A/N: This is basically four chapters: Fall, Winter, Spring, and Summer. Also it’s going to be a bit of a practice run at writing more smut for me lol. Also it’s smut like, right under the cut lol. 

Sophomore Year Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

What were you doing with your life...

You bit down on your bottom lip to stifle a moan as Topper’s tongue pressed against your clit, the cold tiled wall of the shower stall pressing into your back had your skin erupting in goosebumps, a contrast to the almost burning water that was hitting you. It was futile to bother concealing whatever noises Topper managed to pull out of you, the curtains of the shower stalls did little to shield their occupants from the rest of the communal bathroom, the plastic more often than not creating the perfect outline of whoever decided to use the showers. There would be no mistaking you, pressed against the wall, one leg tossed over Topper’s shoulder, his own figure silhouetted, kneeling in front of you with his hands digging into your hips.  

If anyone did find you there was a 90% chance that they weren’t just going to let you off with a ‘sorry for intruding while some guy eats you out in the shower’ but any concern you actually had about the consequences of your hookup had died the minute Topper had joined you in the shower stall. Technically he’d texted you to come over to his dorm, he lived right off the main campus, close to your building, in a still operational fraternity house. He split a room with some guy who liked to stare but never actually talk when you came around. Yours was not a relationship of anything substantial. You’d hooked up with Topper at a party and exchanged numbers and, two days later, responded to a very obvious booty call at one in the morning.  

“Holy shit!” You cursed, your voice coming out an octave higher than usual, fingers gripping Topper’s short blond hair. You could feel every muscle in your body tense as you tried to keep yourself upright, your other hand grabbing hold of the dial on the faucet in a desperate attempt to not completely fall apart as Topper sucked on your clit. He had moved one of his hands at some point, middle finger now moving rhythmically in and out of your entrance, working you through an orgasm.  

When you came down, your muscles relaxing and you pushing back against the wall to keep yourself steady, leg slipping off Topper’s shoulder, he stood up. He caged you in almost immediately, moving as close as possible in the stall and kissing you, the salty taste of cum still there on his mouth. “That pad really comes in handy,” he teased, referring to the silicone mat you’d bought two weeks earlier to scrub your feet without trying to do a yoga pose in the shower.  

You hummed, “I’ll leave that in my review on Amazon. Great for not bruising your knees.” When he kissed you again you smiled, eyes fluttering closed for a split second. This was the worst part. The part when you ran out of things to say and he would untangle himself from your arms and leave, promise to text you later.  

It was the thing that your roommate had warned you about in the beginning that you had ignored.  

“That’s like, not even friends with benefits though.” She had admonished when you told her for the first time that you had started this bizarre relationship with Topper. “I mean, you’re literally having casual sex with some rando guy that you hooked up with at a party. At a frat party. Do you even fucking know anything about him?”

“I know his name,” you had replied, rummaging through your closet to find something to wear to class, “and his phone number so I can booty call him.”

“Brilliant.” She snapped, “he could be some fucking weirdo axe murderer preying on college girls.”  

You rolled your eyes, “he’s the same age as us.” You had never been one for casual sex in your life until this point and you weren’t sure why it seemed enticing now but you wanted to branch out a little. You’d gotten your first boyfriend in ninth and you’d stuck with him until August of this, your sophomore year of college. He broke up with you, claiming the distance between your school and his was too much for him to deal with.  

It was your roommate that had dragged you to the party at the fraternity house, claiming that it would get your mood up after the guy you’d been with for the last five years decided he couldn’t do the 2 hour commute between your school and his. Three shots of tequila later and the blond you couldn’t take your eyes off of asking if you wanted to ‘go somewhere quiet’ were all the motivation you needed to put the past behind you and stop groveling over a guy who wasn’t even there.  

Still, the fact remained, even now as Topper put his hands on your hips, looking at you through the mirror and kissing the back of your head, you knew that casual sex was not your forte. Not simply because you had never done it before but because you found yourself craving those small, just after when the bubble had broken yet and there was still some lingering affection, moments as much as you craved the sex. But you had both agreed, casual. Something to take your mind off school for a few hours, a stress relief. For you it was more than that. You’d never been the most confident when it came to sex or your body, all that self-love/self-care crap was wasted on you and your gnawing insecurities. Having casual sex was like constantly challenging yourself to be your most exposed and most intimate with someone who was still relatively a stranger to you.  

“You know I think it was technically supposed to be my turn,” you mentioned, running the wide-toothed comb through your hair. You should’ve detangled in the shower except that wasn’t really top priority. What would you even say, ‘oh, would you mind not eating me out for a second so I can brush my hair’…you’d live with the awkward waves that dried in.  

“I thought we switched.” Topper shrugged, pulling his sweatpants back on. His shirt went over his head and you involuntarily pouted at the mirror, there went the view.  

“No, I said…this doesn’t technically count.” You replied, referring to the party three nights earlier and the head you’d given to avoid having actual sex on your period. You were at the tail end and you’d contemplated not going to the frat house at all but changed your mind at the last moment.  

“Hey, if you’re offering, I’m not gonna turn you down.” He joked.  

You turned to look at him, the mirror not sufficing as you stuck your tongue out playfully. “I have a test tomorrow, I have to study.”  

“Come over, you can study in my room. We’ll hang out.”  

“We are incapable of hanging out Topper.” You replied, grabbing your shower caddy and heading for the door. He walked right out after you, both of you ignoring the rather appreciative stare of one of the other girls on your floor.  

“Not true,” he’d suffered a nasty break-up in high school that he gave no more background to other than to say she had cheated on him extensively. Casual seemed to be the best he could allow himself to do though you weren’t sleeping with anyone else and, as far as you knew, neither was he.  

Your roommate looked up from her desk, rolling her eyes at the sight of Topper following you into your dorm. In the beginning of September, when this first started, it felt like you only ever disappeared at night. You saw Topper when he texted you and you might smile in the café but you never actively sought each other out. Now it was creeping toward November though, with Halloween right around the corner, and Topper felt like an accessory. He was always right there wherever you were, not that you were complaining. To anyone on the outside you looked like a couple but you both maintained the friends with benefits story.  

“Oh look who it is.” Almost two whole months of him and your roommate still greeted Topper with a disdainful glare. She was fervent in her belief that the guy you thought was damn near perfect (if only he’d actually date you) was hiding some deep-seated flaw.  

“Hey G,” Topper greeted, taking a seat on your bed as if he couldn’t tell just how annoyed your roommate was.  

-

Geena and you had been thrown together after enduring a freshman year from hell. Her roommate from the year prior had been awful, like caging yourself in with some 00’s mean girl who only found satisfaction in watching you suffer. Your own freshman roommate had been neurotic about the dorm and constantly scrutinized whether your cleaning methods were sufficient. Geena was a blessing, you got along well, hung out all the time, had become fast friends in the short time since the beginning of the semester. Topper was the only thing you didn’t agree on. She thought it was unhealthy, that it would only lead to heartbreak.  

“You can’t have casual sex with a guy for three years…people already think you’re dating. Some girl I don’t even know asked me if I could get her into a Phi Sig party next week cause my roomie is dating one of the guys.” There was a new reason almost daily with Geena, like she tore away a new page on the calendar and it offered up cons to your relationship with Topper in lieu of a word for the day.  

“I can ask for her.”  

“Oh my god, that is not the point.” She snapped.  

You sighed, “I don’t really care if people think we’re dating.”

“Why?” She asked the question so smugly you already knew where she was going with this. And you knew why it didn’t bother you that people thought you were dating, why you sometimes even fanned that flame.  

“G-“

“No, tell me why? People usually keep that shit quiet so they can hook-up with other people too. So why don’t you care?”  

“Because if people think we’re dating…they won’t try to date him.” You shrugged, practically mumbling the last part. You hated that she knew that off the bat, that she could tell that you liked him so much in such a short span of time. And you knew she had a point to all her antagonizing. You had been in too deep since two weeks into September when he told you that you looked pretty in something your ex always said made you look fat.  

-

You held the seam of your towel shut as you rummaged through the set of plastic drawers underneath your bed. Geena had done the bed on risers thing for optimal storage and you had followed along, semi grateful for the added space since both of you seemed inclined to transport your entire bedroom with you. Topper’s foot nudged your side as you got closer to him and you looked up, matching his smile when you caught him staring at you. You were sure Geena was sitting behind you rolling her eyes.  

“Guess I’ll go grab something to eat.” She announced, as if your very presence had worn her down.  

“I’m just getting changed, I think we’re heading over to Topper’s.” You replied, looking back over your shoulder at her.  

Geena scrunched her nose and stood up anyway, “still would rather not be here while you got dressed so I don’t have to pretend like I can’t see this one leering at you.” She shot Topper a look of contempt as she passed. If it was real, if he asked you out and he was really, actually, your boyfriend, Geena was positive she’d have no problems with him. He seemed like alright and he certainly made you happier and more confident than she’d seen you in the beginning of the year. But she hated the thought of you getting hurt and didn’t want to be just sitting on the sidelines watching it happen.

“I don’t leer.” He joked, turning back to you once she was out the door, “I don’t leer.”

You didn’t answer, instead grabbing your underwear out of the top drawer and pulling them on once the door was shut. The first time you had ever gotten dressed with Topper around you’d made sure that you were obscured from view, still too bashful and self-conscious of the way that you looked without clothes on. There was still that split second moment when you doubted yourself, when you thought about maneuvering your towel to hide your body from view, as if after two months Topper might suddenly look at you and decide he didn’t like the softness of your stomach or the width of your hips or any other imperfection you could find.  

You pushed through the voice though, dropping your towel and getting dressed. When you reached for the bralette your tossed on the bed beside him you realized he was looking at you. “G might have a point, maybe I should turn around.” You teased, his eyes snapping up to meet yours.  

“I’m admiring the view.” Topper replied, not at all embarrassed at being caught.  

You rolled your eyes, pulling your bralette on and adjusting your boobs until it sat right. “I don’t even know why I’m putting this on,” you mentioned, grabbing his sweatshirt to pull on over it, “I should just stop wearing underwear to your room and then I won’t ever lose it.”  

“You lose stuff? Whose wearing my hoodie right now?” He asked, grabbing the edge of the hood to pull you closer to him.  

“Your room has swallowed three of my bras...the nice ones too. Or Will like, took them.” You said.  

If there was some kind of formal set of rules that you and Topper had ever thought to draft, kissing outside of actually having sex with each other should have qualified as a major no. But nothing of the sort had ever been discussed and now, Topper leaned over, stealing a quick kiss before he got off your bed. Maybe now didn’t count as a ‘just friends’ moment though since technically you were heading back to his room, presumably to have sex. To finish what he’d started when he showed up seconds before you got a shower.  

“What would Will need your bras for?”

“To masturbate over? Who knows...all I’m saying is, I wear bras to your room, I never seem to leave with them.” You replied.  

“I promise I will find all your missing bras today, okay?” He grabbed your lanyard off the hook, keys and wallet all in one place, pulling the door open for you. “Wanna grab pizza later?”  

You chewed on your bottom lip, waiting a beat to answer him. Grabbing pizza meant, inevitably, hanging out after. Becoming friends was unavoidable, there was no way that either of you could have navigated sleeping together without some sort of relationship forming. So far it was only friendship, or at least that was all either of you were willing to let it be. Anything more than that meant an actual romantic relationship forming, something you wanted but were determined not to let yourself even entertain the idea of.  

“Fine but not from that place by Barnaby's.” You replied, pushing the door open and stepping out into the quad with him. The local bar was always teeming with college students and the last thing you wanted was someone recognizing Topper, because everyone always seemed to recognize Topper, and invite the two of you in.  

“We’ll just get it delivered.” He shrugged.  

The first time you met Topper, enough to tequila to not make you totally embarrassed as you danced with Geena in the main room of the Phi Sig frat house, you had laughed when he told you his name. It was a combination of the heels you borrowed from another girl on your floor and the alcohol that had you losing your footing, catching yourself in time not to smash your whole body into a coffee table, and landing on the couch beside Topper. He was taking a sip of beer and looked relatively startled when some almost drunk girl fell into the spot next to him.  

“Sorry!” You’d shouted over the bass as you tried to undo the straps of the heels that you were sure were also guilty of twisting your ankle.  

When he introduced himself two sentences later, “I’m Topper” you couldn’t resist a good dad-joke and smiled at him, “but I hardly know her!”

“Amazing.” He had been less amused by the joke than you were though he didn’t really seem bothered by it, at least not bothered enough to move on because he stayed on the couch for three more turns of the conversation before asking if you wanted to talk elsewhere. You were sober enough to know exactly what he meant and obliged because you were still kinda pissed at your ex and you didn’t want this year to pass the same as last year had, with nothing but school work to show as a passing of time.  

At least you’d have a good story to tell.  

Highschool you had a healthy apprehension of frat houses and the people who lived in them. You’d seen enough episodes of CSI, Law and Order, Veronica Mars, and any other crime show that existed in the early 00’s to know that frat houses were breeding grounds for terrible things. Your parents had even attempted to sway you from going to your first-choice college simply because the greeks still existed on campus. You could only imagine what they’d think now, knowing that you had spent more time in Topper’s room than you had in your own in the last month at least.  

Frat houses might’ve been sordid in your mind but so far, your reality of this one was exactly what it looked like on the surface, a bunch of guys living together with limited supervision. You still stuck to Topper whenever you were inside but you’d never had a problem with anyone in there and you rightly assumed that most of them just figured you were his girlfriend.  

“Will told me he wants that TA position next year, with Prof Berkley.” You mentioned, flopping back onto Topper’s bed and tilting your head so you could look over to the empty other side of the room that belonged to his roommate. Aside from staring at you too much and possibly stealing your bras, you still had a hunch that Topper was just messing with you and had them stashed away somewhere, Will was alright. You were both in the same area of study, pre-law, and he had told you days earlier that he was gunning for the same TA position with your advisor as you were.  

“I don’t know anything about it.” Topper replied, kicking his slides off and climbing onto his bed with you. The countdown in your head started now, hopefully soon you would be naked.  

“Yes, you do because I literally told you about it at breakfast.” You pointed out. He’d texted you that morning to get coffee with him and you ignored Geena when she told you that sex-friends don’t get coffee together. “I said I was applying for the TA spot because it’s a massive opportunity.”  

“Sounds like something I don’t have an opinion on.” He said, rolling over so that he could kiss you. “Enough chit-chat.”

“You’ve got a one-track mind Thornton.” You joked, moving your arms above your head as he pulled his sweatshirt off of you.  

“Well can I interest you in getting on that track with me?” He replied, lips brushing over your neck as he spoke. You hadn’t bothered to put on any makeup before you left your dorm, you hadn’t even bothered to dry your hair all the way. But who were you to worry about things like that when Topper was pushing your bralette up over your head.  

You jerked slightly, wriggling around on the bed when the fabric got caught half way up your arms, binding them above your head and covering your face, Topper taking advantage of the moment and sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as you arched your back into him. “Topper!” You whined.  

He hummed, pulling away from you to take the bralette the rest of the way off and tossing it off the bed, “sorry, couldn’t resist.” He said, smiling at you as if he truly couldn’t resist. The thought made butterflies erupt in your stomach.  

You didn’t let yourself have the moment though, pulling him in for a kiss the moment he had untangled you, hand on the back of his neck as you ran your tongue against his bottom lip, biting gently as you pulled away. Topper held himself up on one elbow, his other hand pushing passed your sweatpants.  

“Always right down to business,” you teased.  

“What do you want me to take you out first?” He was joking, you knew that, but the way he said almost sounded like he truly would take you out if you wanted him to. But then what would this be, if you had dinner before you hooked up.

“Some foreplay would be nice.” You kept the conversation light, the way you always did, and he laughed.  

“I thought the shower was foreplay.”  

You would’ve answered, thought of something witty to make him laugh again, but he had pushed your underwear to the side, fingers pushing passed your folds to brush your clit. He made the same satisfied hum that he always did when he realized that you were wet, like a quiet pat on the back. His middle finger circled your clit, a barely there shudder of nerves setting off in your stomach as you moaned.  

“I was supposed to,” you managed as he shifted further down the bed and you realized what he was doing.  

“We have plenty of time.” He promised, pressing a kiss to your stomach.  

Topper hadn’t seriously dated anyone since his break-up with Sarah. Kelce told him constantly that he was putting too much on that relationship, as if it was the holy grail by which to rate every other relationship that he had. And maybe he was allowing himself to be too scorned by something that lasted little more than a summer but he couldn’t help it. Topper was nothing if not a hopeless romantic and that had felt like such an idealistic time in his life until it all inevitably crashed around him.  

He tried casual hook-ups before you. A few girls from high school that he knew that made it practically impossible for the casual to still exist alongside the hook-up. College was easier but freshman year had been mostly dedicated to rushing the fraternity that his dad and grandfather and great grandfather had all rushed before him. Then he met you at a party in the beginning of sophomore year and he told himself it was casual but he knew that this was far from it.  

You weren’t anything like Sarah and maybe he had done that on purpose. Specifically slept with someone that didn’t remind him of anyone back home as some way to separate himself from that part of his life. To fully embody the frat boy, jock, life he was trying to live through. He figured it would just be a onetime thing and then maybe a sometime thing but now it was most definitely an all the time thing. Kelce told him that he should just ask you out but Topper felt like he was in too deep already.  

This was supposed to be strictly friends with benefits, if he crossed that line and you said no he would be crushed.  

“Topper,” you moaned, bringing him back to the moment. You shuddered as he pulled his fingers out of you, placing a kiss just below your belly button. When you tugged at the short blond hairs at the back of his head he shifted, letting you lead him back up so that you could kiss him.  

You had told him specifically that it was your turn, as if he really cared about taking turns at all. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it? You don’t have some fussy girlfriend bitching about giving you head.” Rafe’s colourful comments about the situation had been largely ignored but Topper knew, less crudely, he was right. The whole reason the two of you had started this was for sex of any kind and you had been the one to suggest taking turns.  

“My ex wasn’t very forthcoming with praise. He always told me I was kinda shitty at sucking dick so, maybe it’d be kinda nice to practice.” It’s been a colourful sentiment, one you had felt oddly comfortable sharing with Topper when the two of you first sat in his room discussing the arrangement.  

And while he wholeheartedly disagreed with your ex-boyfriend, Topper just liked being the one to give. He liked that moment when everything overwhelmed you enough that you let go and stopped worrying about if you looked attractive in a certain position or if your thighs were too big or if you had any unwanted rolls. That split second between overthinking and not thinking at all was powerful and Topper liked being the one who caused it. He liked the way you looked in his bed, biting your bottom lip to keep quiet so other guys in the house didn’t hear you. The way your hair tangled just from laying on your back. He could list a million things, every one more obscure, less noticeable, than the last because he felt like when you were around all he could do was pay attention.  

“Hey, quit daydreaming about Hailey Bieber-“ you teased as Topper’s movements slowed down, his lips brushing languidly against your collar like he was in some lethargic trance.  

He squeezed your side, baring his teeth to nip at your neck, scraping them across your skin and making you laugh as you turned your head towards his. That lazy smile you got was there, eyes hooded as you watched him, the moment passed and he leaned in to kiss you again. When he broke away it was only to grab a condom from the box on his dresser.  

Topper pushed your legs apart, settling between them. He slipped one hand beneath your back, guiding it into an arch to bring your chest closer to him, mouth finding one of your breasts. His tongue pressed against your nipple, swirling around it as you dug your nails in the sheets beneath you. He looked up at you, eyes hooded, as he pushed you back down against the bed. “God,” he breathed out, “you’re so fucking gorgeous.”  

You grabbed the back of Topper’s neck, pulling him into a kiss, slower than the ones before, more tender. Your other hand moved down between your bodies, finding his dick, enjoying the way he moaned against your mouth as you guided him in. Despite the orgasm he’d given you in the shower you still felt that stretch as he pushed in, kissing across your jaw and sucking a bruise into the space just behind your ear.  

You would never tell Geena but somewhere between quick hook-ups and longer nights together your ‘just casual sex’ had turned into something else, something far more meaningful though neither of you would acknowledge it.  

Instead you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, Instead, you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, hips snapping against yours. The sound of your panting breath and his grunts filled the room; you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning when Topper’s fingers dipped passed your folds to massage your clit.  

“Oh god, Topper,” you whined, turning your face enough to press your cheek into Topper’s pillow, the faint smell of his cologne hitting your nose. You breathed in, always a fan of the subtle musk.  

“Does that feel good baby?” His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, words barely registering over the sensation of him. You opened your legs a little further, lifting your knee and hooking your leg over his back. The angle seemed to give more depth and his movements picked up speed. His fingers circled your clit faster as he continued to whisper words of encouragement to you. A quiet “come on baby, I know you’re close”.  

“Are you?”  

His comment had seemingly brought you just out of the haze enough to ask him if he was close. You knew you were, he knew you were, and you wanted him to be there too, just on that edge with you. As he pulled out you clenched around him and when he pushed back in it felt deeper than before, that all too familiar groan of satisfaction leaving his lips as you guided him back into a kiss. He didn’t answer your question, instead taking the opportunity to kiss you, tongue working it’s way into your mouth and dragging across your teeth. You found your grip on his hair, tugging hard enough that he jerked his hips in retaliation, hitting so deep you felt yourself go off that edge, his motion become erratic as he followed, smoothing your scream with another kiss, biting your bottom lip as he pulled away.  

There was always a moment of frenzy in the beginning when you first started hooking up. You would rush to grab your clothes, partially because you felt the need to leave when the act was done and partially because you didn’t want him to linger too long on your body. You were a temporary fix for a problem he didn’t feel like dealing with on his own, he wasn’t responsible for making you feel good about yourself. He wasn’t your boyfriend, he wasn’t obligated to tell you that you were beautiful or lavish any compliment onto you at all, not that your ex had ever been willing to either. You didn’t stay, for the first few weeks you trudged back across the lawn from the frat house, back to the dorms, and snuck in. But things had changed by mid October and what was once a booty call at one in the morning when he couldn’t sleep was now you going over for pizza and a study session that turned into an afternoon spent in his bed.  

“What time is Will back?” You asked, sitting up as Topper came back into the room with two water bottles. There was still that awkward moment just after sex, as if neither of you knew how to leave behind the intimacy of the act and return to normal life. Like you were both waiting for the other to admit that maybe just friends wasn’t really what you wanted at all. So he disappeared downstairs to get water and you pulled your underwear and his sweatshirt back on, leaving the bra somewhere on the floor.  

The empty other side of the room served as a poignant reminder that time alone was only ever temporary.  

“Not sure,” he shrugged, “he’s been talking about some girl on campus that he’s dating. Won’t reveal her name apparently, he’s convinced Fitz will try to fuck with them if he finds out.” His fraternity brothers were not the same as hanging out with Kelce and Rafe every day but they weren’t the worst substitutes for entertainment. Fitz was the head of the house, a senior whose greatest claim to fame was being party to a wildly controversial radio-show that amounted to nothing more than some white guys imitating Rush Limbaugh and the Douche from Parks & Rec. He said dumb shit just to piss people off and had an unappreciated proclivity for trying to ruin any relationship one of his brothers found themselves in.  

Will was always an easy target for him though he’d set his sights on you a few times, assuming like others did, that you and Topper were dating. You had never mentioned it to Topper, Fitz was gross and you were looking forward to his inevitable graduation at the end of May.  

“Fitz totally would,” you replied. Last year you existed on no one’s radar. You hadn’t so much as gotten an offer to go out on a date with someone and yet this year, all because of Topper, you were sure, it felt like everyone in his circle seemed to pay attention to you in some way. “He told me he prank called Will’s mom two weeks ago pretending to be the on campus nurse for a bit on his radio show.”  

Topper looked up from his phone and the pizza he was ordering, frown etched onto his features. “When did you talk to Fitz?”  

“His econ class is right down the hall from my 12:30 poly sci class…he always ‘walks with me across campus’ in case I get mugged apparently.” You laughed, “I think he just does it cause he knows we hang out.”  

“I didn’t know he was talking to you.”  

You shrugged, Fitz had been goading you for weeks but it wasn’t anything that felt harmful. Just some mind-numbingly dumb conversation about parties and girls and his radio show and how hot he apparently thought you were. “It’s not a big deal, if he was bothering me I probably would’ve said something.”  

“Right,” Topper still looked miffed despite having no reason to be. You weren’t interested in Fitz and, even if you were, what say did he have over it. That old familiar feeling crept in though, the one he recognised as the same one that the plagued him after Wheezie told him that Sarah had cheated on the boyfriend before him only to find out that she had cheated on him with John B. When he looked over you were pouting at him, “what?”

“Your room is so cold.” You replied, pulling the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands as if that was an indication of the frigid temperature. The old house lacked insulation in most of the rooms, Topper’s being one of them.  

He rolled his eyes, climbing back into bed with you, the momentary worry subsiding. You weren’t his girlfriend but in that moment, as he pulled the blankets around the two of you, guiding you back down to lay with him under the covers, he could have fooled even himself about the relationship. He held his arm out in front of both of you so that you could see his phone and the menu for the pizza place.  

“I’ve been really in the mood for pepperoni.” You mused, not bothering to look at the screen and opting instead to tuck your face into his bare collar. Your hand slipped down from his chest and Topper grabbed your wrist before you could make it to his briefs.  

“Pizza first,” he said, “you’re already getting sleepy.”  

“It’s cause I’m cold.” You insisted.  

He turned to place a kiss on your forehead, “pizza.” He reminded you again.  

-

Halloween weekend creeped up and, before you knew it, Phi Sig was decorated and advertising a Halloween haunted house party for everyone on campus. Geena was going home on the actual night of to trick or treat with her sister but she agreed to go to the party with you that weekend. She loved a good party and any excuse to dress up.  

When you weren’t spending time with Topper, and sometimes when you were because he had a tendency to hang out just to hang out (the friends side of the benefit), you and Geena marathoned episodes of Supernatural. And it was at  her coaxing that your Halloween costume became an homage to the show and your favorite character. A semi-loosely interpreted Dean Winchester, complete with a flannel over your black tank top and the mark of Cain crafted by Geena using her best fx makeup skills. You wore cut-off jean shorts with your hiking boots, showing off the legs that you were usually self-conscious about. Geena was Cas, sticking a little closer to the actual costume though she made a few alterations.  

“I gotta ask…” Fitz said, coming up to the two of you the moment you were in the door, as if he was the greeting committee.  

“I’m Dean Winchester.” You explained, “G’s Cas.”  

“You dressed like a guy for Halloween?” Fitz clarified. “I was hoping for something that showed a little more…” he made a motion with his hands to indicate that the little more he wanted to see were your boobs.  

“I have the obligatory sexy cat costume but that’s…” you looked passed Fitz’s shoulder, eyes landing on Topper down the hall chatting with some friends, a smile instantly lighting up your face, “that’s for his eyes only.”  

Fitz looked behind him, catching sight of his frat brother and rolling his eyes before turning back to you, “yeah well, if Thornton’s not appreciative then you know where to find me.”  

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you laughed, stepping around him. Geena had broken off already, heading for the keg that had been set up in the corner. When you started down the hall Fitz found someone else to antagonise, leaving you to vie for Topper’s attention, not that it took you much. Just walking up had him breaking his concentration to look at you, the smile automatic. “Hey,” you greeted as he hugged you, keeping his arm around your waist as he brought you into the conversation.  

“Hey, you look great.” He praised, offering you some of his beer. Topper’s costume was best described as JFK yachting in Hyannis. He looked like a preppy New England white boy and you suspected it was all clothing he already owned thrown together differently. There was always that slight air of prep to him though college and a growing collection of hoodies were slowly eating away at that.  

“Thanks, I feel a little out of place,” you joked, noting a girl down the hall that was wearing a mock up of Amanda Seyfried’s bunny costume from Mean Girls. “Though I do have a costume change saved for later.”  

“Oh yeah,” that smile was a full blown mischievous grin and you wondered for a split-second how down he would be to ditch the whole party and take you to his room. “Does it involve these clothes on my floor?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You teased.  

You had been stressing over the purchase of a costume that could’ve been more accurately described as lingerie since it arrived at your dorm a week earlier. Did friends with benefits buy lingerie sets specifically for showing off? You weren’t sure where that one fell on the line but you were positive you were crossing into territory that was reserved for girlfriends. But even with those doubts, just the thought of Topper seeing you in something that was just for him to see you in somehow made you unable to pass up the opportunity.  

Topper groaned, pulling you closer to him so that he could press his forehead into your neck, “baby,” his voice sounded almost close to whining and you ran a hand through his hair. He nipped at your exposed collar before lifting his head again to look at you. “How long am I supposed to wait?”  

“One track mind, I’ve said it before…I’ll say it again.” You laughed, trying not to think about the way this felt so much like a relationship, pulling away from him but taking his hand, “come on, I wanna get a drink.”  

He followed you to the makeshift bar set up by the keg, refilling his beer while you ladled a generous helping of jungle juice into your cup, trying to fish as many sour patch kids as you could to add to it. You were drinking mostly to calm the nerves that were bubbling up. Geena would be gone Halloween night and the whole next day because she didn’t have classes and you were thinking of inviting Topper to stay over. Regardless of the hour or the amount of time you spent together afterward, the post-coital bliss always came to an end and one of you always left the other. Even if you got breakfast the next day there was a stretch of time that existed between the night before and the morning after where you were nothing to each other but bodies.  

“So, Geena’s going home on Halloween, I thought maybe you could come over,” you suggested. That part was a given.  

Topper looked almost confused that you were asking, “yeah, figured we’d end up hanging out anyway.” He replied.  

“Well…” you worried your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, “I was thinking, she won’t be back til the next day…like, at night, and I thought, maybe you’d wanna stay over.”  

No. There was a voice in the back of his head, the logical one who knew that crossing the most obvious line, the one where he stayed and you woke up together, was a turning point that he wouldn’t be able to come back from. It was bad enough that he had let this become something that bordered on being a relationship to anyone looking in on it, but letting himself pretend like it was…he wasn’t sure he could come back from that when this all ended.  

“Yeah,” he said, quieting the logical side of his brain, “as long as you wear this ‘something else’ for the duration of my stay.” It might be a bad idea but who was he kidding, he was so far gone he’d accidentally referred to you as his girlfriend when he was on the phone with his mom just the day before.  

That smile returned to your face, the one that was so sly yet excitable at the same time, the perfect juxtaposition of innocence and deviousness, “Well, I was gonna wear nothing but-“  

“Nothing works for me.” Topper replied, using his free hand to hook his fingers through your front belt loop and pulling you toward him so that he could kiss you. Definitely not friends with benefits, but you’d both keep pretending until one of you cracked.  

-

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[prorevenge]

Mock my mother’s death? I bankrupt you.

So this could be a very, very long story. I’ll try to summarize where and when I can.

My now ex-wife Kate and I moved to an apartment in 2010. The house as a whole a renovated town house split between two sides with two apartments on the bottom and two apartments upstairs. I wasn’t the biggest fan of the apartment as it was a much older building that I had ever lived in but I quickly adjusted to the wood creaking throughout the night. On the initial walkthrough we noticed that the only problem was that there was a dip in the bathroom ceiling. The landlord, Jay, promised he would get fixed ASAP.

One year to the day when we moved in there was a loud crash at 4AM. The bathroom ceiling had collapsed and there was tiling and wood all over over the floor and in the bathtub. Now Kate was typically the aggressive one, while I was more passive and laid back, and she kept calling Jay throughout the day. When she got in touch with him at around 9PM she explained what happened and insisted that it be fixed immediately. He rebuffed with him yelling that his girlfriend was a lawyer and he didn’t need to do anything. Now this is where I got mad. I went outside and called him myself. I feigned a relaxed demeanor and at first he began trying to talk to me as a “bro” and kept saying “Dude, I’m gonna get someone out there but it’s gonna take a few weeks..” When he couldn’t sway me that way he began yelling about his girlfriend and her knowing the law. What he was unaware of was that I had read the tenant laws in my state and so as he tried to lie I waited until he was finished and I recited the law stating that, if an apartment was considered uninhabitable then the landlord needed to pay for the tenant to stay in a place until it was resolved. He tried to say that our upstairs neighbor Phil was the super but he wasn’t sure if he could get down there that night. He put me on hold, then came back a few minutes later and said that Phil and his girlfriend were out of state. I rang Phils doorbell and asked, with the Jay on speakerphone, if he was assigned as the super. He laughed and said “No.” Dejected, he said he would have people out there the next day (previously he said they were busy for at least three weeks). There’s more to this incident but it lead to two conclusions:

If you’re going to lie then there has to be a consistency in your lie AND make sure that the people you lie to DON’T communicate with each other.

This is where a feud started between me and my Kate versus him and his mother (she was the original landlord and gave the house to him so he could begin to profit.)

So forward to a year later. Jay stopped coming to the house and his mom began doing the pick-ups. Around this time my ex- and I had been laid off and we were working with social security for food, health, and housing insurance. We were approved for all three in April but we would not get the check until May. When our typical check wasn’t in the landlord’s mailbox he immediately gave a summons saying that he was taking us to court for eviction. The day we went to court he had no lawyer and, going before the judge, here’s the summation:

Judge: Does the defense have a means to pay within 90 days of non-payment? Us: Yes judge (hands over paperwork showing that he will be paid for April and May) Judge: I see no problem. They are breaking no laws. Why are we here? Jay: Well your honor, they have been bullying- Judge: I don’t care, unless they are breaking a law then this case is dismissed.

Suffice it to say Jay and his mother’s were NOT happy. Around this time in my life things were tumultuous. My mother, who had been battling lung cancer succumbed to it in June . This happened at roughly the same time his mom came knocking looking for payment. I explained that I would leave it in the mailbox when we got back from the funeral home and to please just respect my right to mourn. She took her fingers and began rubbing them together, pretending to play the smallest violin.

I will never forget what she said next “Oooh, my mommy just died. Woe is me. She probably had it coming. I don’t care if your entire family is dead. I want my money.” She smiled smugly, proud with what she had just said. I saw red and my heart jumped into my throat. I went, grabbed the check, and handed it to her in absolute shock that anyone would say something so...fucked up? She had finally managed to push a button that very few people I’ve known throughout my life have seen. I went into rage mode but not in the way you would expect.

THE REVENGE: We were always told that if a health inspector came by to not open the door. I waited until Aug. since that was when the lease was going to run out and we knew they would not extend a renewal. I walked up the block to town hall to ask for a health inspection of our property. It was scheduled for several days later. Now it’s important to know several things:

I was friends with all of the tenants. Phil had moved out with his fiancé but the new tenant was Dani upstairs in our side. Tom and Hana on the other side of the downstairs floor had moved out and Jay was still looking for new tenants. The only one who wanted to stay out of this was Rose on the upper right apartment.

I had gotten a key so I could let the inspector in Dani’s apartment and I knew that I could use the back staircase on the right side to let him in on Tom’s, now vacant apartment.

I also knew that Dani was moving out in September along with Kate and myself.

The inspector came and it was glorious. He checked the exterior of the house first noting that wires were exposed, there was an old empty dryer along with other odd clutter in the backyard. I bought him inside the shared entrance and, as I was counting on, he noticed that the last inspected dated back to 1994; 18 years. This meant that for each year he did not have an inspection there would be appropriate fines. For our apartment we had black mold growing in our bathroom and the bubble in the ceiling had begun to grow to problematic proportions. Upstairs, Dani’s apartment was suffering from leaks in the ceiling and it looked like her bathroom ceiling was also on the brink of collapsing. We then went to the basement. The boiler was on the verge of exploding, there was flammable items along with gasoline and a pack of matches sitting right beside it. Two things that I did not know was 1. The fire door that separated the two sides did not close all of the way rendering it moot and, on the right basement side there was a toilet. A toilet that had blown up. It had coated the surrounding walls and the leakage prevented us going up to the floor via the right side. The entire time the inspector was photographing and writing constantly.

We stepped outside and he said he needed to come back. When I asked why he said he had run out of space to write down all of the infractions (he had filled the front and had written an entire page on the back portion). I kindly and coyly asked “Well, how much will it cost right now?” He scratched his head and said “Around 20-30k from what I can see but it’s probably going to be higher as this house was never licensed to be split into apartments.” I thanked him and he was going to come back with the county inspector.

So we moved out and but I got the rundown from Rose. Because he was the current owner he owed all current fines and no one new could not move into the empty apartments until everything was up to code. Because three out of four were vacant he was losing 4,500 in potential rent. He handed the property back to his mother and had to claim for bankruptcy. Now here’s the other thing. Every time an old tenant left and a new one was coming in an inspection was supposed to be done. Now that all of the financial burden fell on her they looked into the records and was she was fined for each time she had broken that rule 750/per. By the end of the year Rose had moved out so the place was hemorrhaging money. I sat back, proud of what I had done, and left it be.

Haha, no, fuck that. I wasn’t close to done yet.

I felt like I had destroyed Jay but my real target had always been his mom. I learned that she had about eight properties throughout three towns in my county. I went to each one, spoke to the tenants, and said I was a concerned tenant from another property and asked if they had any problems with their apartments. EVERY person I asked described the apartment in very poor to intolerable levels and that the mom was effectively a slumlord. She would ignore problems unless someone turned to litigations, she was threatened that they would summon the inspector, or, more often than not, the people would move out, she’d refuse their deposit, and sink those into repairs. People rarely fought back because she knew that the occupants were of upper, lower class minorities. So, being the concerned person I was, I want to the inspector of the other two towns and asked for an inspection to be done with at least one, if not more, would be awaiting the inspector when they came. Turns out that she faced pretty much the same infractions on every apartment she owned. It turned out she actually had 12 apartments but I initially only knew about the ones that fell within my county. The remaining properties in the next county over were given a heads up for a surprise inspection. From what I can tell Jays mom had been in the landlord business for about 35-40 years. That collapsed quickly.

Since we moved literally one block down the road from our old one I got to see Jay lose his primary source of income and have to claim bankruptcy BUT also saw that his mother was also trying desperately to find a buyer for all of the apartments so she could pay off the fines. I learned two years later that she too had to file for bankruptcy. Jay and his mother camped out in front of our next apartment two days in Oct. of 13 before she filed for bankruptcy (I’m guessing to scream at me and/or Kate) so I called the cops and said that there were strange people standing in a no parking zone and they kept looking up at the second floor. A cruiser swung by and told them to leave.

I know I should have used the two months I spent monitoring everything to find a new job but this was the one and only time I wanted to cripple a person where they hurt the most; their wallets. I think I got my point across. None of this would’ve happened if you had just fucking fixed the ceiling before it collapsed Jay!

Th;dr: Had a couple of slumlords, they pushed me to a place where I snapped, and so I went a bit crazy and bankrupted the slumlord AND his slumlord mother as well.

(source) story by (/u/Theliterside)

#prorevenge #by /u/Theliterside #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter Twelve

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away” Relationship: Jemily

Rating: Explicit (as of this chapter) Summary: JJ faces consequence for her actions (and gets a hickey).

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

JJ threw herself down onto the bench, hoisting her cleat onto the table and yanking the laces loose. She bit her cheek to keep from crying as her breaths came in heaves. 

She had run from it all, again. That’s all she was good for anyways, running away. It’s what Jareaus did best. 

She closed her eyes, focusing on the present, pushing away all of the thoughts of home that were flashing across her vision. 

Home, in her quiet, empty childhood home, JJ had gotten a text from Emily Prentiss. JJ read the message, standing stock-still in the bathroom that sent shivers down her spine. 

The sight of the girl’s name made her smile, brought a shiver of excitement down her spine and the ghost of a kiss to her lips. 

But, when she closed her eyes, Rosalyn’s blood pooled on the tile floor underneath her feet. JJ couldn’t respond to Emily’s text. Instead, she curled up on the floor next to where her sister died. 

JJ shook her head, returning to the present. This wasn’t the time, she thought. 

She moved to her other shoe, untying the laces and prying the cleat off of her sore foot. She rolled her knee-high socks off of her calves, focusing on the familiar motions and not the swirling thoughts and emotions that tugged at her brain. 

But today, soccer wasn’t helping. The sport had always been her solace, the pitch a place where she could forget who she was, what she was, for a couple hours. But today, the mess that was her life had broken through the barrier, and gotten her sent home from practice early. 

JJ cursed as she stripped off her uniform, working her tight shirt and sports bra over her head, then removing her baggy navy blue shorts. Wrapping a towel around her, JJ grit her teeth as she took her toiletries into the shower. 

With a protesting squeak, the tap spun under JJ’s hands. She turned it just past midway, then further into the red, hoping the hot water would wash away the fog that clogged JJ’s brain.

JJ’s father was gone. Her mother hadn’t had the heart to tell her. Leaving it for JJ to arrive in her childhood home, finding out in person that the dining room now had two empty chairs instead of just one.

She stepped into the shower and let the scalding water run over her body. 

“I’m sorry Jenny,” her mother said, her voice breaking with the words. “I didn’t know how to say it over the phone, and after your break up-”

He had left without so much of a goodbye. She should have seen it coming. The fighting that had been bad when she was a teen, had only gotten worse after JJ wasn’t there to try and hold the pieces of her broken family together. 

She had frozen in the foyer, her duffel bag still in hand, as her mother stood before her, begging her to say something. 

JJ didn’t know what to say, still didn’t. All she knew was that she wasn’t enough. Not enough of a sister, of a daughter, of a girlfriend. She wasn’t enough for anyone, and she knew it. She couldn’t keep her family together. She couldn’t keep her sister alive. And she was certainly not good enough for someone like Emily Prentiss to love. 

Hot tears melded with the water raining down from above as JJ let out a quiet sob that echoed through the change room. 

“Jareau?” Kennedy’s confused voice called out as the door to the locker room slammed shut behind her. 

JJ stifled her cry with her hand over her mouth and tried to settle herself down. Breathing in and out, JJ closed her eyes and focused on the rush of the hot water over her body. 

JJ had run around the track, harder, faster, pushing herself further than she should have. She ran the drills sloppily, her aggression showing though in bursts of frustration when she couldn’t master her footwork. Her coach sent her to the locker room early; apparently he had enough of JJ’s bad mood.

JJ shook her head; she turned off the water and grabbed the towel, wrapping it around her before peeking her head out of the stall. 

“Yeah?” she croaked. 

“Seriously, like, what is going on with you?” Kennedy asked. 

JJ frowned, walking over and sitting on the bench, busying herself with towelling off her hair with her extra towel rather than answering the question. She shivered in the cool air.

“You’ve been all over the place this semester,” Kennedy continued, unheeded. “First you’re all weird, then you’re all smiley, now your brain is somewhere else.”

JJ didn’t look at her. 

“And frankly,” Kennedy continued, her wide blue eyes boring into the side of JJ’s face, “we can’t handle someone whose head isn’t in the game with playoffs coming up.”

JJ gulped. She was right. This had come at the worst possible time. All of this. And it was getting to her, affecting her game, making her sloppy. “Is this still about your break-up?” Kennedy asked. “Did something happen over Thanksgiving?”

“Honestly,” JJ sighed, “yes and no.”

“I don’t understand,” she said. 

She didn’t really understand either. How could she tell Kennedy about how her mother had cried when she had told her that she and Will had broken up? How could she explain that the tense silence between her and her mother was the last straw? How it was somehow worse than her parents' constant fighting? How could she explain that when she stared at the closed door of her dead sister's room, all of the heartbreak came flooding back?

Kennedy watched her, her earnest face blank as JJ wrestled with her inner turmoil. 

JJ’s mind flashed back to the hurt and pain on Emily’s face. The way Emily’s face collapsed into blankness as JJ pulled back, how JJ felt like she had betrayed her friend. 

JJ tried to explain. She went over her break up, in significantly more detail than she planned to, how she had felt bogged down by him, how she didn’t want him to visit, how he seemed to sense that and broke up with her. 

“But wasn’t all that a while ago?” Kennedy asked. 

JJ sighed. This was the catch. 

“There’s someone else on your mind, isn’t there?” Kennedy guessed. Sometimes the girl was actually perceptive. “Why haven’t you said anything? You’ve got to share. Is he hot?”

Well, not that perceptive. 

JJ found herself laughing at the question. She thought for a second. She hadn’t really… come out to anyone before. Penelope Garcia didn’t count, she practically guessed. Same with Spencer. And JJ hadn’t even thought about telling her mom. 

Kennedy was different. She thought JJ was straight and loved talking about boys with her. As the semester progressed, JJ’s interest in these conversations faded alongside her attraction to men.

“She is,” JJ said, to Kennedy’s surprise. 

JJ then proceeded to explain her friendship with Emily, her crush on the girl, and her absolute panic when faced with a potential romance with the other girl. 

“So you’re lesbian?” Kennedy asked.

“Yes. No. Maybe,” JJ floundered. 

“You don’t like me, do you?!” she asked, horror on her face. JJ’s stomach sank at the question. “Because I’m not… not…”

“Kennedy, I don’t,” JJ assured her, feeling a touch icky about the conversation. “I don’t see you that way.”

“Should I stop changing in front of you?” she asked.

JJ sighed in frustration. 

“Hey, you know how you don’t find all boys attractive?” JJ said, trying to dumb it down for her friend. “And some are just friends?”

“I guess,” Kennedy said, “So you don’t want to stare at girls in the change room?”

“No,” JJ said, “I’ve literally seen all of you guys naked. You’re like my siblings.”

“Oh thank god,” Kennedy said. JJ cringed at the relief in her voice, but decided not to call her out on it. “So this girl, Emily, you like her?”

“Yeah,” JJ said. 

“Then why don’t you date her?” Kennedy asked. “Didn’t you guys kiss?”

JJ ran her hands through her hair—a nervous habit she knew messed up her hair and left it poofy—as she tried to formulate her response. She couldn’t even explain it to Emily, or herself, she wasn’t sure how to make Kennedy understand. 

JJ hurt people. She messed everything up. She ruined her last relationship because she got bored of him. Would she do the same to Emily? That would ruin everything. She couldn’t lose Emily. It was better to be friends and have her close than have something more and ruin it. 

Explaining that was a challenge, but eventually Kennedy got it. Mostly.

“I think I’ve just made it worse,” JJ said. “I did exactly what I was trying to avoid, I hurt her.”

“What happened?”

JJ didn’t know what happened. She was still trying to claw her way out of the fog that clogged up her brain. 

“Emily texted me. And I just left her on read,” JJ said, her anger at herself coming through in her tone. “I didn’t mean to. She texted me when her flight landed but I was just so out of it.”

JJ gulped, rifling through her bag for some clothes as the chill of the room was creeping into her bones. 

“I put off responding to Emily until I had a handle on my feelings,” JJ explained, she was too afraid baggage on this girl that she liked so much, desperately avoiding scaring her off. 

Left alone in her childhood bedroom, the walls still painted pink and the band posters still hanging onto her wall with scotch tape, JJ’s thoughts swirled around. She worked herself up to a panic, pacing back and forth across the creaky wooden floor, until she laced up her sneakers and thundered downstairs. 

She ran. First, around the block, passing the familiar neighbours and parks that populated her suburban neighbourhood. She pushed on, heading deeper into suburbia.

Tears stung at her eyes as the route took her back to high school, her feeling of desperation to escape, to get out of this shitty town and all the weight that made her feel like she was slowly sinking. 

That weight had returned. Now, it doubled down on her, making her second guess it all. 

“I could have just pretended like nothing was wrong,” JJ said, “But that felt like a lie.”

Before she realized it, she found herself jogging past Will’s house. 

She remembered the year when he moved to Pennsylvania: it was tenth grade and he was the new kid. He hadn’t known Ros. He was safe, free of the expectations of JJ being the poor little Jareau girl. 

Now, seeing his place sent a pit of anxiety into her stomach. 

“But the more I put it off, the more I started questioning what I had started,” JJ said.

“Like, kissing her, you mean?” Kennedy asked, “Did you regret it or something?”

“No,” she replied, “I would never regret that.”

She ruined things. She hurt people. And if she let things continue with Emily, it would just blow up in her face. 

JJ ran harder, slowly coming to a conclusion. 

“I needed to break it off,” JJ said. “I knew I would hurt her. I just have so much going on. I’ll just hurt her.”

She gritted her teeth as she mentally prepared herself to tell Emily. She knew she had to get it over with. Nip it in the bud before it was real. She couldn’t lose her friend. If she did, she would lose them all. 

It would be all her fault, if things ended badly. All their friends would know that JJ was to blame, Derek would hate her, Hotch too, Spencer would look at her differently, and Penelope would know she made the mistake of being JJ’s friend. 

It would be better if they didn’t start. They didn’t kiss again. No one would get hurt. They could just be friends. Just friends. 

“So you decided to stay friends? Why didn’t you just text her back?”

“I tried. I drafted text after text after text and nothing worked. I just kept deleting it.”

When JJ returned to her parents house—well, her mom’s house now—she picked up her phone, trying to draft a message to Emily. Try as she might, she couldn’t form a coherent sentence. 

“I fucked it up,” JJ admitted to Kennedy. “I thought breaking things off before it started would be better, but I think I made things worse.”

“So you’re not dating her?” 

“No.”

“Look Jen, I’m sorry about your family stuff. That’s hard. My parents split when I was twelve and it seriously fucked me up. I get it. But you gotta get over yourself.”

JJ frowned, feeling offended by the comment, but knew that Kennedy didn’t mean anything by it. She was just like that. 

“You’re not going to make it better by wallowing and lashing out. It’s not healthy, and you’re going to cost us the playoffs. You need to get out of your head.”

Kennedy thought for a minute, seeming to size JJ up on the spot. 

“You know what you need?” Kennedy said. “To get out. See new people. Drink. Have fun.”

This was Kennedy’s solution for everything, but for the first time, JJ didn’t turn the offer down, surprising even herself. 

 ———

JJ gulped her beer, downing it quickly despite the warm foam that swirled in her mouth. She needed to be drunk, like right now. Kennedy seemed to agree, holding the bottle upright to allow the beer flow into JJ’s mouth until she finished the drink.

They were in a dingy frat house, surrounded by miscellaneous athletes. There was a lull before playoffs, for most teams, which meant that the weekend was jam packed with parties. This one was occupied by the soccer teams, men’s basketball, and assorted other players that JJ couldn’t place in her drunken state. 

She wiped her mouth, depositing her bottle on the nearby table, and found herself stumbling somewhat. She was only getting more drunk at this point .  After quite a few rounds of shots before they left Kenendy’s dorm room, JJ was well on her way to being blackout.

JJ was already regretting her decision. With finals and playoffs coming up, she should have been spending this time studying or training. 

But, after days of side looks from Penelope and the sad look in Spencer’s eyes, JJ needed to get out of her residence, away from all the people who knew how much she had fucked it up. Ever since JJ and Emily returned to residence on Sunday, and JJ broke it off, tension between JJ and all of her friends had been palpable.

She had no idea how to fix things, and drinking away her problems seemed like it might actually work. She also knew that after a week of little to no appetite, the alcohol was hitting her harder than it would’ve on a full stomach. 

“Easy girl,” Kennedy laughed, likely even drunker than the blonde. Her bright red hair was straightened, almost unrecognisable to JJ, who was used to the wild frizzy curls she usually sported, and fell halfway down her back. Her blue eyes glinted mischievously as she spotted some people going out for a smoke. 

JJ sighed as Kennedy looked at her pleadingly, knowing the girl wanted to bum a cigarette. She was a notorious drunk smoker. 

“Those will kill you,” JJ warned, as her mind wandered to how she sometimes spotted Emily sitting on the bleachers, smoking alone, lost in thought. She couldn’t explain how something so bad for you could look so hot in the right hands.

“Not if I have just one,” Kennedy said. “I’ll be fine. You need to talk to someone besides me and Jordan. Find a guy. It’ll be good for you.”

JJ sighed. Kennedy and her got along well during practices and were an unstoppable force on the field, but outside of that, they were very different people. Jordan Todd, their mutual friend on the team who played defence, was too busy talking to a group of volleyball players to notice JJ looking at her. 

She ran her eyes around the cramped party, watching masses of bodies writhe to the pounding music. She opened her next beer and took a long swig, swaying slightly to the music, trying to get out of her head and enjoy the party. 

Maybe Kennedy was right. Maybe if JJ could get her mind off Emily, she could focus on just being friends with her. Maybe without all of her romantic feelings clouding her thoughts, JJ could make amends and they could just be friends. 

When Kennedy returned to the party, she had her boyfriend Grant Anderson in tow. He was stocky and had a round face, wearing a polo shirt, khakis and boat shoes like most of the guys at the party. 

JJ greeted him pleasantly, though she was still a little cheesed that he had single-handedly gotten most of the team sick a few weeks ago. 

“We’re getting her laid,” Kennedy announced. 

JJ grimaced as Grant began to list off the eligible bachelors on the water polo team. JJ floundered with her response, deciding instead to gulp down her beer, hoping the alcohol would make this easier.

Before he finished his list, he spotted someone who he clearly decided would be perfect for her. He was tall, muscular, with kind eyes, a perfect man in any other circumstance. 

Kennedy elbowed her in the side as he walked up to him, greeting him with exaggerated excitement and a pointed look to JJ. Despite their previous conversation about JJ’s ambiguous sexuality, Kennedy seemed to have defaulted to setting her up with men. 

He told her his name was Luke, showed her pictures of his dog, and talked to her about how challenging it was to balance being a varsity lacrosse player with academics. He was perfect. The kind of boy that any girl would be thrilled to bring back home to her parents. 

Except JJ couldn’t bring herself to feel any attraction to him. Instead of lust, she pictured herself watching the game with him and eating cheetos.

JJ nodded passively as Kennedy and Grant left her with Luke, trying to focus on the facts about his life. She kicked herself internally, knowing that he seemed smart and kind, and that she shouldn’t be rude, but she couldn’t get Emily out of her mind. Anyways, JJ wasn’t even sure if she even liked men at all. 

As Luke explained his major and minor combo, and how that was going to get him into the FBI some day, JJ’s mind wandered to the thought of running her hands through Emily’s silky black hair.

JJ zoned out, her eyes drifting across the party, wondering where Kennedy, Grant and Jordan had all wandered off to.

As if called, Kennedy walked up with a bottle of jägermeister and some plastic shot glasses. She greeted Luke with a friendly greeting, obviously familiar with the tall lacrosse player.

“Shots?” She asked with a grin. JJ rolled her eyes but couldn’t say no, she was already drunk and the idea of more alcohol sounded like a good idea at the time. 

They downed two shots before Kennedy heard a song that she liked playing over the speakers and she headed back onto the dance floor to find her boyfriend, leaving JJ alone with Luke. 

A girl caught her eye from across the party, leaning casually on the kitchen counter, sipping something amber coloured out of a glass. JJ recognized her from the bar that they went to on trivia nights, her auburn hair cut in a bob and mischievous eyes were unmistakable. She was the bartender, who JJ had, at one point, caught flirting with Emily. 

Now, the girl was making eyes at her. 

JJ looked back to Luke, who was asking her about her major, and her plans for the future. She had to admit that she didn’t really know, and that she was keeping her options open. 

Distracted by the other girl’s presence, JJ’s eyes kept flicking towards the brunette, tracking her as she walked across the room and right up to JJ. 

“Hey there,” the mystery girl said, smiling at JJ and giving Luke a quick wave. 

“Hello,” Luke said with a friendly nod. 

“I think your friend’s looking for a partner,” the girl said, pointing towards one of Luke’s friends who was waving over at him. He was tall and had an oversized navy and yellow varsity jacket. He, like Luke, seemed familiar from other varsity events that JJ had attended, Simon… or Simmons or something like that. 

Before she knew it, Luke was pulled into a beer pong game, giving JJ an apologetic smile and a wave, before leaving her with the brunette. 

The taller girl looked her up and down, blatantly checking her out. 

“What are you drinking?” she asked, gesturing to JJ’s beer. “An IPA?”

“You got it,” JJ said. “You?”

“Tequila sunrise,” she responded. “I like things sweet.”

JJ found herself blushing, as the girl leaned in to say that. The girl's hair was curled, resting just below her ears on her neck in a playful style. She had impressive liquid eyeliner swooping across her lids and a soft nude lipstick on her lips. JJ’s eyes moved south, taking in her low cut blouse and skin tight jeans. 

Her head spun at the sight of her. And at the sheer amount of beer that she had consumed. 

The brunette’s face was soft, tanned. Her eyes large, looking down at her with an impish grin. She was lithe and sultry, and smelled like licorice.  

“Like what you see?” the stranger said, smirking at JJ’s reddening face. “The name’s Elle, I think I’ve seen you around.” 

“Jennifer, but my friends call me JJ,” she said. 

“Well. Jennifer, let's see if we can work up to calling you JJ then, shall we?”

Elle drained the last of her drink, placing the glass on a nearby table. 

“Want to get out of this dump?” Elle asked. 

JJ nodded dumbly, acting without thinking, and followed the girl out of the party, sending Kennedy a quick text as she grabbed her coat. 

JJ: took ur advice! see yuo later

Kennedy didn’t respond, as she was too busy chugging beer from a funnel at the time. 

The two girls walked outside, and within seconds JJ’s face was between Elle’s hands, pulled into a deep, passionate and incredibly sexy kiss. 

JJ acted on autopilot, responding in kind to the other girl’s advances as she pressed JJ up against the brick wall, grinding into her as Elle swiped her tongue against JJ’s. 

Despite feeling unsteady, with the two shots of alcohol hitting her hard, JJ’s stomach flopped at the thought of kissing someone who wasn’t Emily. Half of her wanted to race home, knock on Emily’s door, and beg her forgiveness, but the other half was melting into this stranger’s arms. 

JJ’s blood raced through her veins, and she could feel the need flash across her mind. She wanted this girl, knowing nothing about her. She was there, and she was touching JJ, and it was all she wanted in that moment. 

JJ was also very drunk. Drunker than she had been in a long time. The world spun slightly, and she felt warm despite the frosty air. 

When Elle pulled back, JJ’s lips were swollen and she was desperate for more. 

“Your place or mine?” Elle asked. 

 ———

They tumbled into Elle’s room, hands tugging at clothing and lips connected the entire time. JJ kicked off her shoes and fiddled with her belt, trying to remove obstacles early on in the process. 

Soon Elle was standing in front of her wearing only a pair of jeans and a lacy black bra, the sight of which made JJ acutely aware of the wetness that was pooling between her legs. 

“Take this off,” Elle commanded, tugging on the v-neck blue shirt that JJ had worn, not knowing when she was picking out her outfit that she would actually be going home with someone. 

JJ obeyed, pulling it over her head, revealing a grey sports bra with a white stretchy band that wrapped around her ribcage. Elle pulled her in for another kiss, her mouth demanding and insistent. 

As they kissed, Elle’s deft hands undid the button on her jeans, and pulled down the zipper on her fly. JJ then shimmied her jeans off, leaving her in her underwear as she watched Elle do the same. 

Somehow the other girls movements were elegant and intentional, making the awkward motion of stripping look hot. 

“Bed,” Elle said, guiding JJ onto the edge of her own bed and straddling her. 

Elle lived off campus, in a fairly average apartment. Her room was neat, with only scattered books and a bit of laundry on the ground in the corner. Her bed was soft, but squeaked with their motion. JJ hoped Elle didn’t have any roommates. 

JJ held onto her thighs as Elle kissed down her jaw, before moving her lips to JJ’s pulse point and down her neck. Elle sucked on the soft skin above her collar bone, evoking a surprised moan from JJ. 

Her breathing grew heavy as Elle sucked on her neck and buried her hands in her hair. JJ gripped the brunette's thighs even tighter, before running her arms up and down her spine, tracing the feeling of a woman’s body, almost naked against hers. 

It was a different feeling, having a girl's breast pressed up against hers. The softness of Elle’s face was so different from the roughness of any man's. 

As JJ was lost in thought, an almost tentative hand fiddled with the back of her sports bra. No, not tentative, there was nothing about Elle that was tentative. It was a question, asking for consent to strip JJ’s final layer off. JJ nodded and before she knew it, Elle was pulling the garment smoothly off of her head. 

Elle’s lips went lower, her tongue dragging across the small swell of JJ’s breast and swirled around her nipple.  JJ gasped and clenched her thighs at the sensation, squeezing her eyes shut in pleasure. 

“You’re such a pretty thing,” Elle whispered at her.  

JJ opened her eyes as Elle sucked on her nipple, eliciting a quiet, oh , in surprise. She could feel Elle smiling, a devilish grin of a girl who knew exactly what she was doing. 

Then, she stopped and grinned at her. JJ stared, slack jaw, back at her as her head spun with alcohol and lust. 

Elle patted her thigh, an instruction to get further on the bed, JJ did so, moving up onto it. Elle carefully placed herself on top of JJ, propping herself up by her elbows as she resumed their kiss. 

JJ reached around to Elle’s back, deciding to undo her bra and level the playing field, but she fumbled with the clasp. A blush went to her cheeks as she struggled with the fastener, tugging at it frantically. 

“First time?” Elle asked her, grinning wolfishly down at her. 

JJ couldn't lie, so she just nodded before adding: “With a girl at least.”

“Don’t worry,” Elle whispered. “I’ll show you the ropes.”

She sat on her haunches and one handedly took off her own bra, flinging it somewhere off the bed and staring down at JJ. 

JJ panted as she took all of Elle in, her big eyes, parted lips. Her long neck and graceful swoop of her collar bones. Her round breasts and tanned skin before her. 

A pair of black panties hid the last of Elle from JJ, hugging her hips and teasing her of what lay beneath. 

Elle pulled JJ onto herself, guiding her down with confident hands on JJ’s thighs. They resumed their kiss, now breathy and frantic, their lips crashed together in open mouthed kisses, both girls desperate to get closer.

Elle’s hand grazed her hip, trailing along her thigh and coming to rest between JJ’s legs. JJ’s hips bucked into the touch, grinding down onto Elle’s hand. 

“Someone’s excited,” Elle noted between kisses. 

Elle flipped both of them over, carefully holding JJ’s hip in one hand and head with the other and JJ crashed into the mattress with a gasp. Elle’s thigh fell between hers, making contact with JJ’s sensitive core. 

The brunette kissed her deeply, pushing their bodies together and moving her hips, allowing her thigh to grind against JJ.

The friction sent JJ’s mind buzzing, as she was desperate for more contact. 

“What do you say Jennifer,” Elle whispered in her ear, “Can I take these off of you?”

JJ nodded desperately, as the sound of Elle’s breath right into her ear sent tingles down her spine. 

Elle kissed along JJ’s neck, placing a trail of open-mouth kisses down her chest and stomach, before coming to rest between JJ’s legs. 

JJ felt herself tensing up, nervous about what she knew would come next. 

As if sensing JJ’s hesitation, Elle placed her hand on JJ’s stomach, looking in her eyes with a look that said: relax.

JJ acquiesced, forcing her muscles to relax. Elle wrapped her arms around and under JJ’s legs, spreading them apart and holding them lightly. She then pressed her face into JJ’s left thigh, kissing it in a way that was incredibly arousing. 

JJ gasped, jerking her leg away at the ticklish sensation, only to be held in place by Elle’s calm arm around her thigh. Elle kissed up JJ’s thigh, sucking onto her pale flesh hard enough to leave marks. 

JJ felt herself clenching, as the combinations of sensations and the visual of Elle between her legs was almost too much. She gasped and panted, breathing heavy as all of her nerves were on fire. 

The blonde gripped the sheets, on the verge of begging Elle to just fuck her already , but she couldn’t, she didn’t want that. All of this, all that was leading up to it, was on the cusp of sending her over the edge and she hadn’t even been touched where she needed to yet. 

Elle hovered over JJ’s black panties, her breath coming in pants as she looked up at JJ, her brown eyes almost black in the dim light. Her hot breath made JJ strain forward, but Elle’s hands held her hips flat to the bed. 

“Pl– please,” JJ whimpered. 

At her word, Elle tugged on JJ’s panties, allowing the blonde to lift her hips up as Elle tugged them down and off. 

Now, there was nothing between Elle and JJ. 

The distance was soon closed and Elle greeted her with a long swipe up the centre, then a swirl over JJ’s clit. She almost yelled at the contact, as JJ’s head spun at the sensation of Elle’s mouth on her. 

“You’re so wet for me,” Elle cooed. JJ nodded desperate for her to stop talking and start eating her out. 

And Elle did. And she did it well. 

Elle’s tongue danced across JJ, masterfully seeking out the places that made JJ gasp and moan. She was responsive to each noise that JJ made, and showed her clean talent at bringing another woman pleasure. JJ let go, focusing only on the feelings that Elle was evoking and the way she looked up at her as if checking in. 

After a moment, JJ reached down. She entwined her one hand in Elle’s hair, guiding her up to her clit, desperate for more contact. 

Before this, JJ always thought of oral as a step that she had to get through. It was always sloppy, unsatisfying, nowhere near the feelings she could get with her own hands or with a vibrator. 

But now, as Elle sucked on her clit and moved her tongue across her, JJ didn’t want it to end. Unlike with herself, each moment was unexpected yet still welcome, as Elle moved around, constantly finding new ways to make JJ writhe on the bed. 

Then, when JJ thought she wouldn’t ever feel better than she had, Elle’s right hand moved, and her fingers teased at JJ’s entrance. Elle looked up, checking that it was alright, JJ nodded desperately in response. 

Elle entered her easily with two fingers. They glided into her with no resistance and JJ thought she might come just at the feeling of fullness in combination with Elle’s tongue flicking at her. 

Starting a steady motion that complemented her tongue moving up and down, Elle’s fingers moved in and out of JJ, slowly, almost too slowly. 

As JJ’s breath came heavier, Elle picked up speed, sucking at JJ’s clit and thrusting at an impressive speed. JJ’s hand held onto Elle’s hair for dear life. 

As JJ babbled incoherently, begging Elle to keep going, keep going, keep going, suddenly she could picture Emily on top of her, Emily between her legs and Emily making her see stars. 

JJ came saying Emily’s name. The sensation rolled through her, making her toes curl as she shut her eyes against the feeling. JJ’s lips parted and her body shivered as the orgasm took her. 

She could hear Elle chuckle, but the noise was not enough to break the waves of pleasure that wracked through her body. The brunette didn’t stop her movements, rubbing her fingers down inside JJ as she rode out her orgasm. Nor did she stop sucking on JJ’s clit, as she had her lips wrapped around it, with her tongue rubbing against the centre. 

Without a moment to breathe, JJ suddenly felt a second orgasm coming, building up in her gut and coming as a second wave that washed over her before she even knew it. 

It hit her with less force than the first, but still powerful enough to send her twitching and shuddering. Elle pulled back, allowing JJ to ride her fingers at her own pace.

After a few moments of gasping and panting, JJ opened her eyes to find Elle wiping her hand on a towel and grinning down at her. 

“Wow,” JJ managed, dazed at the feeling of elation that made her skin buzz. 

Elle flopped beside her, reaching over JJ’s prone form towards a plastic reusable water bottle. She unscrewed the cap before offering some to JJ. She took it eagerly, spent and dehydrated from all of the beer. 

“Good?” Elle asked, taking the water then having a sip for herself. 

JJ nodded dumbly, feeling doubly out of it from the alcohol and the sex. 

Elle placed the bottle back down on the desk, then laid down on the bed, facing JJ.

“Who’s Emily?” she asked, way more casually than the question should entail. 

JJ’s face lit up in an even deeper blush than she was already sporting, mortified at the question and the memory of her calling out another girl's name while she was in bed with Elle. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Elle said, “But I don’t do cheating, if that’s what this is.”

“We’re not-” JJ said, stuttering. We’re not what? We’re not anything, yet, she thought. I broke it off before we could be anything. “I’m single, don’t worry.”

“Is she someone you want?” Elle asked. 

JJ nodded, unsure of where this line of questioning would lead. 

“Well, you have a lot to learn then,” Elle mused, “if you’re going to ever please this girl.”

JJ stared at her. 

“From where I’m sitting,” Elle said, “you’ve gone home with some girl—me—to forget about this Emily girl, am I right?”

JJ nodded. 

“But this is also your first time with a girl. So I’m sensing there’s some sort of combination of a will-they-won't-they situation and a sexuality crisis at play. Hence you have something to learn from me.”

“That’s not-”

“Yes it is,” Elle interrupted. “I don’t mind, don’t worry. I’ll show you some of the tricks up my sleeve and this Emily girl will have me to thank.”

JJ stuttered at Elle’s bold words, but didn’t have a single coherent thought to counter the brunette’s argument. She did want Emily. That was all she thought about. It was all so complicated, but here, with Elle, it was so simple. There were no feelings, no friendships, no bridges to burn, just sex. 

“So, are you ready to learn?” Elle said, a daring look in her eye as her finger trailed along JJ’s stomach. 

JJ nodded. 

“Come on then.”

She obeyed, climbing onto Elle and kissing her deeply before moving lower, her hand creeping down to graze the brunette’s thigh. 

“Don’t worry,” Elle said, “I’ll guide you through it.”

——— 

JJ woke up that morning to a splitting headache and a stomach that gave her the feeling that her bed was a ship lost at sea, tilting under the force of the ocean, making her nothing but seasick. But, she wasn’t in a boat, she was in a bed, and she was not in her own.

She squinted against the daylight, cracking open her eyes and blinking hard. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, holding her head steady as the headache throbbed and left her disoriented. 

The large bay window was not hers, and the sleeping girl next to her was unfamiliar. But, the first thought in JJ’s mind was not either of these facts, it was the question of where the bathroom was, because she was about to yak. 

JJ tried to stand, but the room was spinning so she braced herself with the desk that was right next to the bed, and she stumbled across the room, into the hall, where she saw the bathroom. 

Not bothering to close the door behind her, JJ knelt and puked into the toilet. Some of the drinks from the night before came up, the bile feeling like fire in her throat and mouth. She heaved into the toilet, her eyes stinging with tears as she was forced to reckon with the sheer amount of alcohol that she had consumed at the party. 

When her stomach had finally settled, JJ curled up on the floor, as the tears spilled down her cheeks. 

She could barely remember the majority of the night before, but from what she could remember, it didn’t paint her in a very good light.

She had fucked someone else, and whoever this girl was, JJ could remember snippets of the evening and knew she had royally messed up. 

Elle stood in the doorway with a glass of water, knocking lightly on the doorframe to announce her presence. JJ blinked up at her, mortified by her current predicament. 

“Don’t tell me I got you pregnant,” Elle quipped, squatting and holding out the glass to JJ, who laughed half-heartedly and took it. JJ was relieved that at least she remembered the brunette’s name, that was a good sign.

Sipping the water, she swished it around in her mouth before spitting it out in the toilet. She then took another sip, swallowing it and relishing the cool feeling in her throat, mentally begging her body not to throw it up. 

“You ok?” Elle asked, standing up. 

JJ shrugged. 

“Probably should have said no to that last beer,” JJ said hoarsely. “I should go.”

JJ stood, her legs feeling shaky and the world still feeling like it was spinning slightly. She was still mostly naked, only wearing her underwear and an unfamiliar t-shirt, which was presumably Elle’s. 

Bright red blotches were visible above the fabric, gracing her collarbones and the right side of her neck with an array of hickies. JJ gasped and prodded at them, shocked at the angry red that was bright against her pale skin. 

Her hair was a mess; the once-perfect blonde waves were mussed and tangled. There were large bags under her eyes and a wild look in her eyes. 

The realization of what she had done sent another urgent feeling of nausea through her. She hurriedly rejected Elle’s offers of coffee, or breakfast, and raced out of her apartment building. 

 ———

After a chilly walk through the student village, under the bright grey November light, JJ stumbled back to residence. She was wearing only the outfit she had worn out which didn’t do much against the cool fall breeze than it had last night with the warm buzz of alcohol in her system. 

JJ stared at the ground her entire walk home, mortified with her leather jacket, high heeled boots, and low cut shirt. She was clearly on a walk of shame that Sunday morning. 

Her outfit also did absolutely nothing to hide the bright red marks that crept up her neck. She had been too drunk to think about the consequences of letting Elle suck on her skin, and now had to face the consequences. 

You’re ok, she said to herself. All you have to do is make it to your room. You have some concealer there, and turtlenecks. If you make it there you’re safe, no one will know.

She hurried up the stairs, unlocking the door to the second floor and speeding down the hall. She thanked god that her hair was long enough, so when she passed some people in the hall, she just lowered her head and looked away, hoping that no one looked at her too closely. 

JJ was lucky that even though she had made a lot of mistakes that night, she still had her keys and her phone. She had her lanyard around her neck, ready to unlock her door, and there she would be home free. 

Just as she reached her room, having to stop herself from sprinting down the hall, the door across the hall opened. JJ tensed up, key still in the lock, knowing exactly who was there.

She turned, forgetting about the marks on her neck, and looked at a steel-faced Emily Prentiss, looking at her with a blank expression in her eyes.

She was dressed for the day, wearing dark jeans, a baggy hoodie, and cordless headphones in her ears. 

“Hello,” she said cooly, the simple word sending hurt into JJ’s gut. 

“Hey,” JJ said, it sounded more like a croak than a word. 

Emily’s eyes flicked down to her neck, widening at the sight. JJ gulped, realizing that Emily knew exactly what JJ had done the night before, the evidence clear all over her. 

“I gotta go,” Emily said tersely, “I’m going to be late.”

And with that, Emily marched down the hall, without another word to JJ. 

JJ unlocked her door, pushed it open, then her legs gave way and she fell in a puddle of her own tears, sobs wracking her whole body. 

“JJ, what’s wrong?!” Penelope gasped, leaping up from her office chair and kneeling down in front of JJ. 

She couldn’t make a sound, her embarrassment and anger at herself manifesting in angry sobs. Penelope wrapped her arms around JJ and allowed her to cry, patting her hair and holding her close.

“I’m so sorry,” JJ managed, knowing the person she was really apologizing to couldn’t hear her.

#criminal minds #jemily #gravelyhumerus cm college au #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss x jennifer jareau #cm #emily prentiss #prentiss x jj #elle greenaway #jemily fic #jelle #Penelope Garcia #luke alvez #fanfiction #jemily fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #Jennifer John Jareau #emily elizabeth prentiss #queerminal minds #my post #my writing #sorry this is more angst #angst #smut #it has smut to keep it interesting #also matt simmons is there hes lukes friend but jj hasnt met him yet officially

[thefanficmonster]

Some Fun

Connor Walsh & Michaela Pratt (How To Get Away With Murder)

Warnings: Spoilers for HTGAWM Season 1&2, Swearing, Sleazy/Creepy Behavior, Mentions of Heartbreak, Alcohol

Genre: Platonic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: While the Keating 5 is out enjoying the first time they have been allowed to let loose in a long while, Michaela finds herself nursing a broken heart following the debacle with Levi. Sadly, heartbroken girls seem to be a magnet for sleazy guys at clubs.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Hope you had a great commencement ceremony, sending you my biggest congrats and hugs! Sorry you had to experience such an important event online and not IRL, but I still hope you got to make the most out of it and celebrated your success safely :) Hope you enjoy the fic as well hehe. Love, Vy ❤

“Girl, you weren’t even together for two weeks!“ Laurel says, handing Michaela her lipstick while the two fix their appearance in the bathroom they were happy to find empty at the club where they’re currently celebrating having avoided going to prison for the nth time. “I’m surprised you’re not over him already.“

“Honestly...“ Michaela trails off, pausing just as she’s about to apply the lipstick, “In two weeks, he made me feel more than Aiden ever did.“

Laurel rolls her eyes exasperatedly, “Either that or you got too attached too soon. No offense, you seem to have real shit taste in men.” Seeing the glare her friend is sending her in the reflection of the mirror, Laurel quickly defends herself, “I said no offense! Can you really say I’m wrong though?”

Michaela rolls her eyes, applying the nude shade of lipstick before gracing her friend with the reply she already knew she’d hear, “I can’t, you’re right. But that’s not helping my current situation in any way. So, care to share any helpful advice?” She turns to look directly at her with this strict and annoyed yet somehow still soft look in her eyes.

Laurel takes the lipstick from her and drops it in her purse, “There’s a bar out there with surprisingly cheap drinks and a ton of hot guys surrounding it. I’ll let you guess what I’m insinuating.”

Michaela’s face contorts in a displeased expression, “A hook-up with one of those lowlifes who waste their lives at underground bars like these? No thanks, I’d rather wallow in my sorrows.” She shakes her head with evident disgust and repulsion, her shoulders tensing at the mere thought of hooking up with anyone before seeing full info about said person. It’d be an understatement to say Levi only fueled her already existing trust issues that were already present even before Aiden. Laurel’s definitely right about one thing - all the ‘luck’ she’s had with guys throughout the years has led to these trust issues upon trust issues, creating a mountain-high pile of distrust.

“No, fuck no! I’m talking fun. Dancing, drinking, flirting and then going home alone, not with one of those assholes.“ Laurel explains, “See, that’s your problem, Michaela - you can’t just have fun with a guy and forget about him, can you?“ Michaela inhales sharply as though she’s about to snap a retort to shut her friend up, but she finds herself lacking words to say so she closes her mouth and clenches her jaw as her eyes wander around the white-tiled bathroom. Realizing she won’t be talked to hell, Laurel continues with a tad bit more caution this time, “Have you ever even tried to do that? Have fun and then dump a guy?“

Bracing herself to be laughed at and teased for her answer, Michaela bites her lower lip and shakes her head. It’d be a blatant lie if she said she had tried. Her and Aiden were high school sweethearts and she had never even gone on a date before meeting him. Following the break of their engagement, she threw herself into work and didn’t allow herself much partying or drinking out of fear she might start regretting the decision to call it all quits. Sober, she knew it was the right thing to do, so sober she stayed. And then she met Levi and fell for him almost immediately, distrust after Aiden be damned. So, in conclusion, this is her first time finding herself in a party setting in a very long while. Single and in a party setting, that is. Ok, single, heartbroken, and in a party setting. A perfect combination for getting drunk and letting loose. Laurel might have a point.

“In that case...“ She says, taking Michaela’s hand and giving her a mischievous smile, “Let’s break your ice.” She proceeds to drag her friend out of the bathroom and into the club where they get a friendly reminder of how loud the music really is. The bathroom must have one hell of sound isolation, considering the two girls nearly get deafened when stepping back onto the main and oud scene so abruptly.

The club is as crowded as it is loud and they have already lost sight of the male half of the Keating 5, but neither of the girls seem to care as they make their way to the bar, ordering themselves vodka shots which Laurel takes upon herself, winking at Michaela and mouthing the words, “My treat for your first time.”

Smirking, Michaela accepts the offered dose of alcohol, clinking the shot-glass against Laurel’s before they down their first of many shots for the night.  With each rush of vodka going down her throat, Michaela finds herself getting more and more relaxed, loosening up and she’s even starting to consider accepting the offer Laurel posed earlier about moving the party over to the dancefloor. The tipsy chat they’re having is lighthearted and fun, often swerving because of their inability to focus on one topic for too long without bursting out laughing.

Eventually, the two are interrupted by someone familiar but someone they weren’t expecting to see.

Michaela spots him first, “Frank? Who the hell invited you? Were you sent here to babysit us? We’ll pay you to leave if that’s the case.“ Yeah, after a few rounds of shots it’s safe to say she’s lost any kind of thought-to-speech filter and is being 100% honest which is quite amusing to observe.

At the mention of that name, Laurel whirls around in her bar stool, eyes wide when they meet Frank’s, “Wonderful, Annalise has sent her hitman to keep a watchful eye on us.“

Surprisingly unbothered by Laurel’s comment, he smiles, “Nice to see you too, Laurel. And no, I wasn’t sent by anyone. You just happen to be at a bar a buddy of mine owns. A bar I frequent too.” He explains, his claims backed up by the lack of his professional suit that has now been replaced by jeans and a button-down. He glances briefly at Laurel who has turned back around, downing her Margarita with frustration. His smile turns into a smirk as he points at her and turns to Michaela, “Is she bothering you? I can escort her away if she is.” He sends her a subtle wink, clearing up the message for her hazy brain to properly pick up on.

When it does, she returns the smirk right back at him, “Please do, she’s a real party-killer.”

Laurel turns to face her and Michaela can swear on all she’s ever owned she has never received such a betrayed and pissed-off look from anyone. It almost cracks her up to the point of laughter but she knows better than to fuel the the rage fire within her friend at the moment who has already hopped off the bar stool and is slowly being led through the crowd by the aforementioned ‘hitman’. Before she’s completely out of view though, she mouths a quick ‘I’ll kill you’ at her.

That manages to break Michaela down as she starts laughing, calling after her without any hope that she’ll be heard: “I won’t be your first.”

“You could be my first.“ An unfamiliar voice appears right next to her ear, startling her. 

She turns around and sees a guy, a stranger, smirking at her. Even in her drunken state she finds herself unwilling to enter a conversation with him. But then she hears Laurel’s words repeating in her mind, telling her to have fun.

Ok, I don’t really need to like the dude in order to have fun, do I? She thinks to herself, briefly contemplating the whole situation before finally replying.

“First what?“ Her voice has a friendly tone to it - friendly, but not quite flirty.

“First lady to dance with me tonight.“ The stranger replies, “If I play my cards right you may also be the only.“ He winks at her and she can’t help but find it more repulsive than appealing. She finds herself comparing him to Levi all of a sudden, despite the two having nothing in common at least appearance-wise.

In order to push those thoughts away she makes the rash move of offering him her hand, tilting her head towards the dancing crowd, “I don’t know. Let’s test that theory out, shall we?” She definitely sounds more confident than she feels but she’s prepared to do almost anything to get Levi and that whole ordeal out of her mind, so a quick dance with a stranger doesn’t seem like such a big deal.

Oh boy how quickly she regrets it.

The guy has no chill nor patience. He’s handsy right from the get-go: touching her inappropriately any opportunity he gets, grasping at the chance he’s been given seeing as how she has no escape and no room to get further away from him without bumping into other people dancing carelessly. However, when he starts grinding his hips against hers, she’s finally had enough planning her escape and instead chooses to act on impulse.

Looking around the unfamiliar faces for the odd chance she might spot someone familiar, she slowly inches further and further away from him, despite the fact she’s not able to put much distance with his hands on her waist, keeping her close to him. The alcohol seems to have evaporated from her system as she’s in critical survival mode, wanting nothing more than to leave the situation or maybe even the whole club for the night, finding it too uncomfortable to stick around after this event.

And then, like a literal miracle, she spots him and he has very clearly spotted her and is giving her this confused yet concerned frown.

That’s all she needed really. Pushing the stranger’s hands away, she pushes through the crowd, ignoring the people calling after her, calling her names for bumping into them or shoving them a little harder than intended.

“Connor, baby, how’s it going? You’re having fun?“ There’s a grin on her face, but her eyes are screaming ‘help me‘ at him. Something he clearly doesn’t pick up on because the frown of confusion remains mounted onto his face.

However, before Connor could reply, the creep has appeared next to her yet again, having followed after her from the spot they were dancing at, “Is this your boyfriend?“ He asks, not hiding how pissed and disappointed he is by the sudden emerging of Connor.

Michaela parts her lips to answer but Connor beats her to it, “Yeah, her boy space friend who has a boyfriend. And you are?“ He narrows his eyes, analyzing the guy’s face as much as he can in the dark, vaguely strobe-light illuminated club.

“Interested in the young lady.“ The creep smirks, giving Michaela a once-over look, taking in her body from head to toe with a gaze that makes her shiver with disgust.

Connor, thank God, picks up on this and takes a step forward so that he’s standing between the guy and Michaela, a serious and intimidating look on his face. “Well, she’s not interested in you. Go find someone willing to put up with your inappropriate and downright disgusting behavior.”

The creep laughs, his jaw clenching as he licks his lips, frustrated that things aren’t going the way he’d like, “Whatever. She’s a 4/10 anyway. A four who thinks she’s all that with her head in the clouds and playing eye-candy and then running away. I know her type quite well.” He shoots a look at her over Connor’s shoulder before turning around to walk away.

Michaela is not at all bothered by his words, she’s just glad he’s off her back. However, she can tell Connor is far from done with the case, seeing as how he takes a step to go after the guy and go off on him. To avoid further complications of what’s supposed to be a fun night after so much stressful shit in their lives, she quickly takes hold of his arm to stop him in his intentions.

“Connor, let it go, it’s ok. Let him be. Don’t waste your time and energy on a sleazy fucker like him.“ She tells him, gripping tightly on his bicep until he finally turns to look at her, seeming significantly calmer.

“But it’s not ok, Michaela. I was planning to leave.“ He says, his voice stern, “What if I had left? God knows how that asshole would’ve progressed his creepiness. Shit like that’s not ok and it’ll keep happening if fuckers like him aren’t put in their place.“

“There’s no putting them in their place. You think pep-talking him was gonna prevent him from doing the same to another girl in this very bar?“ She looks at him expectantly, knowing full-well she’s proved her point. When he sighs in defeat, she claims her win in the argument and changes the subject, “Also, leaving? Why?“

Connor shakes his head, grimacing as he motions at their surroundings, “All this, not really my scene. Plus I’m starving. There’s a Burger King down the street so yeah, that was gonna be my stop before going home. After all the crap we’ve been through, some of us might appreciate a little partying, but I’d rather have a quiet night in, you know? A fast-food-and-movie type of night.”

A genuine smile spreads across Michaela’s face. “Makes two of us. I prefer partying when I’m completely free from my worries. They just end up resurfacing after a couple drinks.“

Connor scoffs, returning her smile, “Who knew we could have more things in common than the need to be better than everyone else?” This comment actually manages to earn him a laugh from Michaela - something he rarely gets from her so he’s willing to hold onto it as a positive sign for the progression of their frenemy-ship. And so, he pushes his luck, “Wanna accompany me?”

Although surprised by the offer, Michaela feels the sudden urge to accept it without much thought. Even so, she decides to say: “As long as we’re not watching a rom-com, I’m in.”

Connor smirks, “You pick, boss.”

She rolls her eyes, “That’s the problem, I’ll pick a rom-com out of instinct. You know they’re one of the top five medicines for a heartbreak?”

He shakes his head, unamused, “No they’re not.“ He takes her arm by the wrist, guiding her through the crowd towards the exit, “Fast food is though“, he tells her, flashing her a quick smile over his shoulder as he adds, “And ice-cream. My treat.“

Once again left at a lack of words, Michaela just accepts what’s been offered to her. Never did she expect spending the night watching a movie with her main rival would be more appealing to her than partying under strobe-lights but here she is, leaving a club to head for Burger King with Connor and she doesn’t care enough to dwell on what that means for the constant war they’ve had between them. Guess it’s put on hold, but just for tonight.

Who knew wars could be paused by a fast meal and a movie? 

#how to get away with murder #htgawm season 1 #htgawam #htgawm #htgawm season 2 #connor walsh #michaela pratt #connor & michaela #michaela & connor #laurel castillo #flaurel #frank delfino #asher millstone #wes gibbins #annalise keating #bonnie winterbottom #sam keating #levi wescott #fic #fan #fanfic #fandom #fanfiction #platonic relationships #rivals to friends #frenemies #enemies to best friends #request #requests open

[willadisastercry]

the boys of voltron when pidge is on her period

TW: description of things to do with mestraution, reference to blood, and depiction of vomiting and passing out

SUMMARY: so basically the boys are absolutely clueless when it comes to Pidge being on her period, only some of them make the connection at times but they kind of eventually forget completely that she even gets it and allura can’t necessarily relate... good thing Pidge’s periods haven’t been particularly painful while she’s been in space, until this one is and she is not at all prepared.

{2:27 am}

Pidge woke up drenched in sweat.

“What the f...?” she mused groggily, blinking dumbly in the dark trying to figure out what was wrong until she felt it, the throbbing ache in her stomach just above her bladder that somehow spread insttantly to her lower back and made her hips feel like they were being wrenched apart.

“Ooowwh,” she groaned queasily, rolling to her side and hugging her stomach tightly.

Shit.

Pidge hadn’t had a heavy period since she’d been in space, she had been so busy with voltron, so physically active that it had lightened substantially and she almost forgot how painful they could be. It was sort of a blessing, that aspect at least.

But then the fact that she was in space at all was entirely inconvenient. No one got to pack before they became the universe’s greatest defender and the castle wasn’t necessarily toting the supplies humans needed, especially supplies specific to female humans. And they just didn’t carry pads or tampons in any Earth souvenir shops because why the fuck would they. 

So, it was awkward enough having to explain to Allura the intricacies of the female reproductive system when she found stained painties in her bin after her first offfical space period, let alone having to relay that to Coran in order for him to create sanitary products for her. Pidge would be utterly mortified if she ever had to ask him for more than the additional supply or additionally medicine to take away the horrible cramps and other unpleasant symptoms. But she hadn’t needed to yet, so she had never worried about it.

Until now. Because now she was crying from the excruciating agony of cramps after not having any for who knew how long.

Voltron had been relatively inactive doing promotions on planets they freed from the Galra, so they hadn’t been on a particularly taxing mission in weeks. Pidge had never even considered the sudden decrease in physical activity could cause her period to come back in full force. She should have considered it. She could’ve ask Coran before... she could’ve made something to...

FUCK.

She almost cried out as the onset of another wave of cramps made her stomach churn. This was bad. Her head was already pounding and her back ached dully, for the moment overshadowed by how foul her stomach and uterus felt, taking turns pulsing but both succeeding in making her want to profusely vomit up all of the green alien goop she’d had for dinner earlier.

The boys had remarked at just how much she was eating that night. Now she knew why. And now she was really regretting it.

Pidge pulled herself up to a hunch and waited a beat as the movement ran its course, a new flare of pain spreading down her back and making its way to the joints of her hips.

She needed to do something. The pain was unbearable. Everything that could hurt, did. She blinked back dots, a small whimper escaping her lips at the thought of it not ceasing anytime soon and so she got to her feet to begin making her way to the kitchen to search for something, anything before the next wave landed and she lost her resolve.

The hallway outside of her room was dark, the only light coming from a lamp in the common room. She made her way swiftly. First to the bathroom with Coran’s alien solution of a pad. Pausing only to wash her hands before trudging on. And then she could feel her stomach pulling, getting ready for another gush of pain. She walked quicker after that, despite the deep ache in her back that threatened the contents in her stomach once more.

When Pidge finally made it to the kitchen she was blinking back more dots and leaning heavily on the counter as she reached for a glass, her hands shaking holding the pitcher as she filled it. She takes a couple of sips. Her headache was splitting now.

There’s nothing in the cabinets for pain relief, there’s usually tea... some sort of herb thing. But there’s nothing, she’ll have to go to the infirmary. And then the realization that she’ll have to drag herself all the way across the ship while she felt like this made her head spin.

Like genuinely spin. Pidge couldn’t decipher why she suddenly felt so faint, she’d eaten more than enough that night, yea sure it hurt but this didn’t warrant-

And before Pidge knew it her mind had gone blank. She didn’t remember letting go of her glass or falling but suddenly the floor was rushing up to meet her face very quickly.

The floor tile of the castle was very cold against her clamy skin and it was very helpful in reviving her, so was the insessant shaking.

Pidge blinked in confusion, but the pain that followed her renewed consciousness prevented any sort of protest. She looked up to see a very worried Keith shaking her shoulders slightly.

“Pidge! What the fuck?! Are you okay?” he rambled off quickly, his eyes working her over trying to deduce what could possibly be the problem.

“Yeah...” she said sort of sadly, but before she could even consider how to start explaining she made a humph sound and lurched forward, narrowly clamping a hand over her mouth to choke back down the saliva that had welled up in her mouth, just as Lance nearly tipped himself over with how fast he had raced to discover the source of commotion.

“What the fuck was that?” he inquired surveying the strange sight, “uh, you guys having a party or something?”

Neither of them answered as Keith scrambled to shove the bowl that previously held earth veggies under Pidge’s chin and helped her sit up before she began aggressively losing the contents of her stomach.

“Holy-“

“Lance, shut up! Pidge passed out... I don’t think she’s feeling great,” Keith explained, rubbing circles on Pidge’s back, her whole body trembling while she retched.

“Oh,” Lance softened, a pang of worry apparnt in his gut when he moved closer to check her out for himself.

He then got to work sweeping the broken glass away from where his friends sat before he lowered himself down as well. When Pidge finally came up for air she reddened immediately. This was just not ideal.

“I’m-i’m done, I think,” she rested her head back against the cabinet and held her stomach.

“So... what the heck was that?” Lance asked taking the bowl away to empty it.

“Uh, nothing—”

“Bull,” Keith interrupted. Pidge wasn’t expecting that, but then again she was talking to the king of hiding injuries and ailments and feelings, especially pain.

“No! I’m fine, really—“

“Yeahhh i’m just not buying it.” 

Pidge’s heart dropped as she realized Keith wasn’t going to just let it go. Crap.

“You passed out and then almost threw up all over me, you’re not fine Pidge. You can tell us what’s wrong... it’s not like we’ll judge or anything,” Keith said gingerly and she knew he meant it. Fuck.

Am I really about to confide in these two boneheads about my period? In space?!

“You can’t laugh,” she choked as another ache stole her breath. It was looking like she would in fact have to admit she was on her period if she wanted any sort of remedy, of which she really really did.

UGH.

“We won’t, we promise,” Lance assured. She didn’t expect that either. From him at least.

“I’m on my fucking period,” she whispered almost inaudibly. Keith nodded in understanding.

“Oh! Well that explains it,” Lance breathed, “I thought you were like deathly ill or something.”

“Juries still out on that one,” Pidge grimaced, squirming as she tried to find a more comfortable position, one that didn’t put so much pressure on her hips or her stomach or her back.

“Oh, c’mon—“

“I wouldn’t finish that statement if I were you buddy,” Keith tried to hold back his laugh.

“Listen to the mullet,” Pidge warned, her death stare shutting the boy up instantly, “because only when you can handle feeling your uterus shedding its own skin without what just happened occurring can you then talk, otherwise please save it.”

Whether it was her subtle threat or the way her voice shook with her last plead, Lance did as he was told.

“So, how can we help you?” Keith offered, “I don’t feel comfortable leaving you like this, like... I mean I know you’re not traditionally sick but for all intents and purposes sure seem to be. So what can we do?”

Pidge shifted uncomfortably, unable to keep a straight face now.

“You can help me find some sort of medicine to take. Anything, literally anything. For pain, or sleep, or death, I don’t care. I’m good with whatever you can find.”

“Damn, I’m sorry Pidge. I’ve never seen you like this over your... your period before,” Lance apologized and scratched his head.

“Yeah, because it’s never been this bad,” she tried to steady her breath and shut her eyes, swaying her knees slowly from side to side because she was so freaking antsy and in such pain it was all she could to do to somewhat soothe herself.

“She look pale to you?” Pidge was barely aware of Lance hushing his worry under his breath.

“Yeah, but she’s like flushed too.”

“Hm...”

And then there was the back of a cold hand against her forehead and an exclamation of concern.

The boys looked at each other worriedly like “shit, this is bad” and then launched into a discussion on how they were going to proceed. Pidge didn’t listen to the conversation that followed, she could only focus on keeping her fist pressed against the right spot on her lower back and refraining from crying out as the pain rose and dulled and rose again.

And then Lance was nudging her, his hands out for her to take. He helped her to her feet, his hands firm on her back when she stopped to wait for the blood rush to dissipate and then guided her over to the sunken couch. Keith must’ve been asleep on it before because there was a pillow and unraveled blanket next to a curled up Kosmo.

She laid down slowly while the boys bustled around her, not having enough energy to accurately produce any theories explaining why Keith would be sleeping in here and not in his own room, saving the thought for later.

Then she was aware that the boys had gone off to wherever and she was alone with a peaceful Kosmo as another horrible pain flared up in her back and travelled to her hips.

“Fuck!” she exclaimed, unable to surpress the tears as they rolled down her face, her breath hitching now. Pidge rolled to her stomach and brought her legs under her in a sort of mock child’s pose, accidentally waking Kosmo up in the process. But to her surprise, he didn’t seem annoyed at the disturbance like he normally would’ve been, he’d stretched out in front of her and licked her face instead.

Pidge could’ve sworn he looked genuinely worried, somehow sensing that the salty wetness of her face and contorted breathing meant anguish, because he then went to comfort her. This is right about when Keith and Lance turned up with Coran and some strange alien goodies in the heat of an enlightening conversation about how a cryopod likely wouldn’t make a lick of a difference in this situation.

“Good boy,” Keith commended, petting his wolf’s head who was in a vice grip in Pidge’s arms, but he didn’t seem to mind in the least.

“Little one, I am displeased to hear of your great discomfort. If I had known these menstrautions could be accompanied by such horrible pains I would’ve something prepared sooner... but fear not, my girl, because I may very well have a few remedies that might do the trick.”

Pidge sighed and heaved herself to a sitting position, Kosmo turning himself around and nestling in her lap. The boys silently remarking at how she’d somehow looked worse than before.

Her face and eyes were blotchy and puffy from crying and her trembling was more apparent now, either from the cold of the common room or her abnormal temperature, regardless she looked like she was really going through it.

And she was because as soon as she straightened up her face fell. Keith didn’t wait even a tick before he took off barreling for the veggie bowl, vaulting over the couch just in time to once again shove the bowl under Pidge’s chin.

Kosmo whined in distress.

“My girl...” Coran lamented, fussing with the supplies they had gathered in Lance’s arms.

“Here, once you’ve calmed down try this, it’ll make you sleepy but it should ease the pain for now,” Coran had a thick blue leaf in his hands.

Pidge nodded, Keith’s hand behind her neck gripping her solidly in case she tipped over because she looked like she was about to. Her face was ashen, almost tinged green.

“I’ll get you something to wash that down with,” Lance stated and headed for the kitchen. Coran headed off somewhere too.

It took her a minute to be sure she was done but when she was she shivered and sat back, Kosmo nudging his head under her arm.

“You cold? Or just shaky?”

“Cold. I run fevers sometimes but only usually the first day and then I spew when the cramps pick up... hey look, I’m sorry to be making such a fuss so late and keep you all up for something so stup—“

“Are you kidding?” Keith seemed genuinely taken back as he draped the blanket he was using earlier around the tiny girl’s shoulders.

“Wha—don’t apologize!! You know we’d all do anything to make sure you’re okay, your Pidge! You’re like our nerdy little sister, how can we not fuss over you?” Lance said when he returned with a little laugh. Pidge managed a smile while she gnawed on the oddly textured leaf, gulping it down quickly with the water Lance brought.

“And I was up anyway,” Keith started “I couldn’t sleep so I came out to hang with Kosmo. I was surprised you didn’t yell at me for being awake when you first came in. And then I heard the glass break followed by a sloid thud, so naturally I needed to see if ya know you were alive.”

They all laughed at that. Pidge let out a big yawn.

“I forgot you even get your period, Pidge. You never let on that you’re in pain, like ever. That’s freaky, that’s like a superpower holy--”

“I’ve got just what you need, my girl!” Coran beamed, effectively shutting down Lance’s tangent.

Coran presented Pidge with a blanket.

“Uhh, thanks?” she took it from him and rubbed at her eyes.

He then held up a remote and pressed a button. The blanket started to glow, it was getting warm.

“Oh, yes! You’re the best, Coran.” 

Pidge gave Keith’s blanket back and wrapped Coran’s around her middle, Kosmo seemed to like it to because he nuzzled into it and pawed at her for more of it to cover him.

“I don’t get it, if she’s feverish isn’t she gonna over heat?” Keith asked, more confused than anything, and maybe a little sad that his blanket was rejected.

“From what Allura has told me, heat sometimes soothes the cramps associated with a female human’s menstruation! It is quite fascinating, but it makes perfect sense, you see the release of the hormone prostaglandin is a hypothermic process so--”

“Okay, spare us and our simple minds. Anyway let’s be quieter, I think she’s finally asleep,” Lance pointed to a very peaceful Pidge curled up in her new blanket with Kosmo, her mouth hung open and steadily blowing on a tuft of hair with each breath.

“I think it’s time for you boys to retire as well,” Coran suggested, settling down at the other end of the couch, “I’m sure our Pidgeon has greatly appreciated all of your assistance, but you both need to rest, I can watch over her from here.”

Keith and Lance shared a look.

“What’s the harm is staying with her a bit longer, just to make sure she doesn’t get sick again or anything, ya know?” Keith postured.

“Yeah, I don’t see anything wrong with staying just a little while longer,” Lance said stretching out at Pidge’s feet, she was nestled in the corner of the couch, so Keith took to the other part of the couch by Kosmo and rubbed his nose.

And within no time the two boneheads were out. Lance’s head resting on Pidge’s leg as a pillow, limbs strewn all about, snoring like an old man. While Keith was cacooned himself in his own blanket all but his arm because it was trapped under both Pidge and Kosmo.

This was the scene that Allura walked into early that morning. She was very confused to say the least.

#voltron pidge #pidge gunderson #pidge whump #vld headcanons

[koko-bopp]

Three Times

jeon jungkook x male!reader

word count – 5K

genre – Mature, Fluff

warning(s) – lowkey SMUT, marijuana use, drinking, choking kink, lace kink, if you're toxically masculine or addicted to gender roles, just don't read.

synopsis – you and jungkook had flirted a thousand times, hung out alone a million times, yet you've only kissed three times.

You've only kissed them three times, his lips.

You'd had a massive crush on Jungkook for as long as you can remember, and it would be obvious to anyone with or without a pair of eyes that Jungkook really liked you too.

But Yoongi's your older brother, also Jungkook's friend, so wanting to confirm a relationship would've been tricky. Jungkook probably would spontaneously combust and die if you had to ask for Yoongi's approval to date you.

The first time involved the two of you getting stoned. Yoongi wasn't there to tell you shit, considering he went on a skateboarding park date with Hoseok, and Namjoon was spending the night at Jin's place. Weed brownies and Looney Tunes was all you and Jungkook needed to have a great time.

Well, you two only really needed each other to have a good time.

But this was a moment to remember.

Alright, the two of you were pretty stoned; edibles seemed to have hit both of you pretty hard since you had begun telling embarrassing stories about Yoongi, and Jungkook's stories were about his highschool life and how canteen food is disgusting compared to Jin's cooking.

Before it all came to an end, Jungkook placed both hands and his chin on your shoulder like a giddy child, both of you staring at each other through eyes that weren't yet that red but for whatever reason, it looked like Jungkook was staring into the solar system. Staring into something beautiful.

But his staring into your eyes with a bright grin on your face led to hungry lips being met.

Jungkook had climbed onto your lap with his fingers diving into your hair, his legs on either side of your thighs as you moulded your lips against his as though you had been touch starved.

Moans were leaving Jungkook's lips when you pulled him down against your crotch, thrusting up causing him to whimper loudly. You'd grabbed his ass into your palms watching him have to pull away from your lips and suck in a broken sigh.

Though he joined back immediately, grinding down onto you and in that time you had pulled Jungkook flush against your body, one hand moving up to grip onto his hair.

"Ah–! Hyung," He moaned loudly.

It resulted in a low chuckle from you, your lips scattering small bites and kisses along his neck that was on full display for you to enjoy as you please, "Hmm. You sound so sexy moaning for me, doll."

It earned a whine from Jungkook, a more moans from when you bit down next to his pulse.

A smirk danced onto your lips, "Though, I bet you'd look sexier squirming under me, don't you think?" You said, "Withering, squirming, all desperate underneath my touch, baby? Doesn't that sound good?"

It sounded perfect.

But it was interrupted by Yoongi bringing Hoseok back to his apartment from their date. So, as soon as the door clicked open Jungkook had thrown himself off of you and onto the far end of the couch.

Yoongi clearly knew what had happened, he noticed the pillow you'd used to cover your crotch area, and Jungkook sitting wierdly cross-legged with his face and cheeks flamed red. Hoseok just being happy that he's no longer challenged by snobby teenagers to a skateboarding race.

You and Jungkook watched Hoseok smother your brother in kisses. Yoongi laughed at his boyfriend's actions.

Hoseok seemed oblivious to everything except the weed.

The second time had been to celebrate Jungkook's birthday.

The whole squad was invited. Taehyung was sipping on wine, while nobody let Jimin drink anything other than cider because that man can move when he's drunk. Yoongi and Jin looking sober after a whole bottle of Smirnoff, Hoseok and Namjoon just enjoy a classic beer.

You and Jungkook? It was his night, so he was allowed to drink, obviously responsibly, but you joined him. Namjoon had volunteered to be the designated driver.

Though Jungkook didn't even bother to keep his hand off of you after three shots. He constantly wanted to feel your biceps, running his finger along your jaw, and always made sure that his leg was brushing against yours.

If someone watched you two from the booth that you'd sat it; easily mistaken for a couple enjoying a drinking date.

"[Y/N]-hyung!" Jungkook laughed at your comment. You had noticed almost immediately at how his cheeks had flushed a shade of pink. "You perv," he giggled.

The topic of outfits when it came to sex was bought up, and you'd quite blatantly mentioned that lace is a rather attractive material. You may have also mentioned that Jungkook wearing that kind of clothing would definitely be something you'd want to see before you die.

"Oh my god, I was joking," you said, seen as you were only really joking about the last part. Though you leaned forward so only Jungkook was able to hear your next words, "Kookie. Are you actually wearing that?"

"Why?" He said, teasingly. His hands danced along his button-up, undoing the first few buttons that immediately exposed the black, lace bra that he had mentioned seconds ago, "Are you taking back your words?"

Your eyes went wide. It might've been the alcohol, but your expression read immediate lust. "Fuck, you look–"

You didn't have the concentration to respond as soon as Jungkook licked his lips. You swallowed hard, eyes wondering to the pattern of the piece then back up to the younger's eyes. Jungkook was smirking, clearly proud of his behaviour, "Do I look nice, Hyung?"

You nodded carefully, you were trying to convince yourself that both his behaviour and yours is just alcohol influenced.

Jungkook leaned forward, his hot and vodka-scented breath against your neck while he took a hold of your hand, dragging your hand slowly up his shirt to feel the lingerie under the fabric. He kissed the space right beside your ear, and you could literally feel the smirk against his lips, "Would you fuck me like this, Hyung?"

It resulted in a messy make-out against the bathroom sink. The sound of heavy breathing and French kissing were bouncing against the bathroom tiles. Both of you were trying to get the upper hand over the other.

However, you received the title of dominance when you wrapped your fingers around Jungkook's neck harshly. He'd let out a moan that was almost too loud, not expecting the action to turn him on so much.

You smirk, poking out your tongue from between your teeth, "Turn around."

Jungkook smirked and hooked a finger around the loop of your pants, "Make me."

"Jungkook! Jungkook!" The sound of Jimin's frantic voice came from the other end of the door.

Both you and Jungkook rolled your eyes, you slightly let go of the grip on the other's neck, just slightly, instead, you leaned down to begin planting a mix between rough and soft kisses along his neck and chest.

Jungkook's breath hitched, leaning his head back out of reflex, one hand in your hair and the other gripping the bathroom sink. He raised his voice slightly, "Jimin, I'm busy!"

"We told the bartender it's your birthday and now he's giving out free drinks–"

"Ah-!" A loud yelp came from Jungkook when you'd gone down far enough to take his nipple between your teeth through the lace fabric. Licking and biting the bud caused a string of poorly suppressed moans leaving Jungkook's mouth and a smirk from you. Jungkook whined, his hand now on your shoulder, "Jiminnn, not now!"

"If you don't come I'll actually break the door down."

You rolled your eyes, biting down one last time before pulling away, the string of saliva on your tongue glistening.

"No, no, no, hyung–" Jungkook's half-lidded eyes could've spoken for him, but he continued in a softer yet firm tone so Jimin wasn't able to hear him. "Hyung, I'm hard." He honestly wanted to cry, every chance he seemed to finally have you to himself it got interrupted.

"Next time, Kookie." Not gonna lie, you were rather disappointed as well, but Jungkook acting all whiny and needy was kind of attractive.

Jungkook gripped your shirt, grinding his crotch against your leg, "Please, please, just ignore him. I want you inside me."

Jimin somehow burst through the door, accidentally tripping over his own feet but nonetheless able to regain his ability to walk properly. "Jungkook, can you just– oh."

The youngest in the room pushed you off of him, almost angrily, although not expressed to you, more towards Jimin. "For fuck's sake," he snarled bitterly, tucking his shirt out from his jeans. As much as being interrupted was honestly a massive turn off for him, he was still that little bit hard, so thankfully his shirt was long enough to cover.

Jungkook exited the bathroom buttoning his shirt back up, making sure to hit Jimin's arm with his shoulder.

And Jimin was just really shocked at what he'd done.

You were trying your best not to laugh.

The third time was different, though, Jungkook had spoken to Yoongi, asking for his blessing to date you. It took a three-hour pep talk and a 250ml bottle of iced coffee, but he did it.

"No."

"I– what?"

"I said, no," Yoongi repeated. He hadn't even looked up at Jungkook, he was too busy starring at his computer, "I didn't interrupt almost every moment you two had together for nothing."

Huh, now it made a lot more sense.

Yoongi was against him, not the universe.

"Yoongi-Hyung, c'mon," He sulked, dropping his shoulders, "If you're worried about me hurting him–"

"–I am."

"At least give me a chance. Just one," Jungkook pleaded, still facing Yoongi, "I swear, hyung, you won't regret this, he means the world to me."

Yoongi turned around, his brows furrowed, "If you do anything, and I mean anything, to hurt him or his feeling, you'll be dead to me," He threatened, "Understood?"

You were in your room, and that's where Jungkook was heading. All the times of seeing your face and spending time with you but not being able to make more of a move than cuddling finally paid off.

Slightly disappointed that Yoongi was playing game master and tried to restrict you two from being together.

But to an extent, he didn't blame Yoongi at all for being overprotective, blood is thicker than water.

"Kook? Wha–" You tried to say. Jungkook had purposefully exaggerated his entrance, slamming the door open and closing it. He'd seen that you were sitting on your bed with your studies in your hand but quickly interrupted it by sitting on your lap.

"Jagi," Jungkook began, a bright smile on his face as he placed both his hands on your chest, "You like-like me, yeah?"

You were still that bit shocked, seeing as this was happening really quick. But a blink or two got you to realise that Jungkook was really close to you. You placed your hands on his waist, "Yeah, shit, did it take you two almost-fuckings and months of flirting to figure that out?"

Jungkook laughed, "No, just wanted to confirm." He leaned closer to you, tilting his head just a bit so he was mere inches away from your lips, "So, I spoke to your brother."

It was making you nervous at how calm he was acting, but you nodded in acknowledgement.

"I got his approval," Jungkook beamed, "And lucky for you, I like-like you too."

You didn't stop yourself from making the first move this time, so you softly and firmly connected your lips with his. It was like stamping a contract, one that made sure that Jungkook is yours and you're his.

You took a hold of the back of Jungkook's neck, bringing him much closer to you. You pulled back for a second though, looking at Jungkook through loving eyes, "Yoongi's going in half an hour."

Jungkook furrowed his brows, slightly panting, from the kiss, "Alright. So?"

You smirked, "He's staying over at Nams and Jin's to finish off his work there," you said, but you moved your hand so it was now wrapped around his neck. Watching Jungkook's breath hitch was what you wanted, "Then you're mine to ruin all night."

#happy Valentine's Day cunts!! #im a tiny tiny little bit late but here #jungkook bts #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts jungguk #jungkook x male reader #jeon jungkook x male reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #x male reader #male reader #male reader smut #kpop male reader smut #bts x male reader smut #male!reader #x male reader smut #jungkook x male reader smut #smut #bts smut #jungkook smut

[spacerangersam]

for reasons unknown to me, i wrote a small archvist!martin and spiral!sasha fic. warning: it’s miserable. it’s literally just two monsters bonding over being lonely

His fists were aching by the time the door appeared, the shattered glass clogging up the sinks and littering the floor like sharp, shiny confetti.

Martin silently joined them, sliding against the wall until he fell to the floor in a slump. The glass dug into his skin, even through his clothes, but he did move. He swallowed back the lump in his throat as a door that had not been there before creaked open.

He should have been scared, should have felt something- anything, but nothing could bloom through the heavy layer of misery in his chest. 

The door was made from a warm, wooden oak, and the patterns on the wood were hard to look at, constantly twisting, shifting. So, he didn't look at them, instead focusing his attention on the creature in the doorway.

Sasha looked almost the same as she had the day she died. Her hair seemed to be a slightly different shade of brown every time Martin blinked, her Marilyn beauty mark changed location every few seconds, and the pattern on her clothes was hard to look at, but it was still Sasha.

It looked like it was still Sasha, Martin corrected himself. But it was half-hearted. He couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm nor the conviction to convince himself that this monster wasn't who they used to be. That was more of Tim’s thing.

At this point for Martin, it just felt like reciting a script for a part he knew he’d never get the chance to play- silly and pointless.

"Hello, Blackwood,” she greeted. Her words bounced sharply off the walls, rattling in his ears.

He let out a deep and shaky breath. "James."

Martin wasn't sure how they'd come to call each other by their surnames. He wasn't sure how they'd got to talking at all. They hadn't been that close before...before her death. He hadn’t known her birthday or what her favourite colour was, if she preferred cats or dogs, or why she’d even come to work at the institute in the first place (he Knew now, but he didn’t like to think about it).

But maybe that was why. 

Tim couldn't even look at her whenever she showed up, spat harsh words and curses her way, and Jon wouldn’t enter a room until he’d counted all the doors and jumped every time one of them creaked. But Martin? He just put on a small and greeted her with a cautious 'tea, James?'. 

(She never drunk it, but she’d pretend to, which a small, strange part of him appreciated. It was more than what the other two were willing to do these days)

Maybe whatever was left of Sasha wanted something familiar, and Martin was the only one willing to play along.

She stepped into the bathroom, her door vanishing behind her, looking out of place amongst the dull white tiles and plain black stalls. She tipped her head to the side, just a little too far to be comfortable and asked: "What are you doing on the floor?"

He let out a slightly hysterical laugh. That was the most normal thing she’d ever said since becoming distorted. 

“You have a strange sense of humour,” she commented. “I didn’t realise humans found broken glass funny.”

The words tumbled out before he could stop them. “They don’t, but I suppose I’m not really human anymore.”

It was an unsettling admission. 

Sasha just laughed, the noise high-pitched echoing, as if there was several people laughing instead of one.

“No, I suppose you aren’t. But I am still curious to know why you’re down there.”

Martin opened his mouth to force out some half-baked joke or lie, but he stopped himself. Why lie? She didn’t need any reassurance that he was fine, and it wasn’t like she was going to run off and tell someone what he’d said. Who would she tell? Some sorry sap she’d trapped her in her hallways? He shuddered slightly at the thought, but it was weak, the horror bland on his tongue.

 “Having a breakdown, I guess.” His lips twitched in a poor facsimile of a smile.

“You seem to be having a lot of those these days. But why?”

"Because I don't know what to do,” he admitted in a quiet voice. “I can't- I wasn't supposed to become this, I-I'm not even qualified enough to be an assistant, never mind an archivist a-and now, fuck, look at me."

With trembling fingers, he pulled off the faux-leather gloves he'd be wearing, holding out his hands. His fingertips were black as coal dust, thin black lines appeared and disappearing, flickering wildly over his skin. And then, of course, there were the eyes, all over, glowing lime green.

Martin felt sick looking at them. He didn't wait for a comment from Sasha before clumsily pulling the gloves back on and hugging himself tightly.

The eyes had kept below his wrist so far, but he knew that wouldn’t last. Was he going to wake up one morning covered in them, from head to toe? How long would it take for the static to catch up? He violently pushed the thought away.

Sasha sneered at the hidden eyes for a second before her expression softened, brows slightly furrowed. "...She was like you when I chose her, you know? Scared of Becoming."

He Knew.

"I don't want to Become anything," he stressed, throat tight. "I just want to be Martin."

She blinked once (a rarity, she didn’t often blink anymore) and silently sat down beside him, resting her head against his shoulder, hardly heavier than a pound. She didn’t breathe and her hair brushed against Martin's wet cheeks, sharp as a blade. Then, it was soft again, soft as a cloud, but he could feel a small drop of blood sliding over a tacky tear trial.

He didn't wipe it away or look for a plaster as he might have done in the past. What was the point?

Sasha's hand curled over his arm. Even through the thick jumper he wore, he could feel the burning heat of her grasp.

Martin couldn't say how long they sat there in silence, on the cold, disgusting, glass-covered floor, listening to the taps drip. Perhaps it was a few seconds, perhaps it was an hour, perhaps it was an eternity. He could Know, if he wanted to, but Christ, he didn't. He didn't want to Know anything anymore.

He just wanted to be normal, boring Martin Blackwood who wrote bad poetry, made good tea, and occasionally went on terrible one-off dates just to convince himself that he could date if he really wanted to. Who trailed cats down streets just for a pet and a good picture, who laughed at Tim’s jokes even when they were bad, who always fancied the wrong men, who knitted Sasha the jumper she was wearing the day she died-

But he didn’t get to be that Martin Blackwood anymore.

He could still see the disgust and fear on Tim's face when he saw Martin's hands on Monday morning, could hear the shake in Jon's voice as he hovered outside of Martin's office, quietly asking 'do I have to take this in?'. No amount of tea or forced smiles was ever going to fix that. He would know, he'd tried. God, he'd tried so, so hard, but what had that got him? Two paranoid assistants and Elias' smugness pricking at his brain like a sharp needle.

Sasha made a small, strange noise and dislodged herself from Martin's grasp. He mourned the loss of warmth but said nothing as she stood in front of him, tall and strange, eyes determined.

"One way or another, you'll lose yourself, Blackwood. I'm afraid you don't get a choice in that. But you get a choice in how and when."

"...What?"

The thing that had once been Sasha held out her hand. Her fingers were just an inch or two longer than they should be, two of them missing nails, and she was still wearing the onyx ring Tim had given her for Christmas.

Martin's heart ached at the sight of it, falling into a rabbit hole of memories. He almost forgot what they were talking about.

And then, in a firm, echoey voice she said: "Join the Spiral."

For a few moments, his mind went blank. Then, all at once, everything came back, hitting his consciousness like a freight train. 

"I-How? I thought it only had one avatar?"

Of all the things to focus on, why that? he scolded himself. Sure, it was a fair question, but it wasn't the most important one.

Sasha shrugged, not moving her hand. "It does. It will. Or perhaps it won't. Who's to say what will happen to you, to me, to us? Perhaps we will be two, perhaps we will be MeandYou. Perhaps you will you’ll take over, or perhaps I’ll eat you.’

She grinned, teeth straight and white.

It didn’t scare him as much as it should.

"...Why are you offering this?” he asked.

Why not just take it, like she’d- like it had taken Sasha? Like it had taken Michael and so many others. The Spiral didn’t play with its food, it just ate.

She looked away for a moment. "…It is lonely, in my corridors. I don't think I want to be alone anymore. Tim won’t come, and Jon won’t come. But I think you will.” Her fingers twitched and she looked back at him. “And because you are Martin Blackwood, and I care."

Her words rattled in his head. When was the last time anyone had cared? He’d been so isolated since becoming the archivist, more than he’d ever been in his entire life…

Sasha took a step forward.

“I know you’re lonely too. I can smell it on you, thick like a sea salt perfume. Tim and Jon, they avoid you too, don’t they?”

His lips trembled at the reminder, and he reluctantly nodded. “I-I keep telling them I’m not going to hurt them, that I won’t Know anything or compel them, but-”

“Such is human fear, irritational and not.” She tapped her foot against his knee. “You have no one else, do you? It’s alright, Sasha didn’t either. That’s why she liked you, why she wants you here. You understand me better than anyone.”

For some reason, that caught Martin off guard. Sasha had no other friends? Or- wait, was that a lie?

“Really? I thought she would’ve had loads. She was so…”

Nice, normal, well-adjusted. The kind of person who was just naturally liked.

“I never cared to make friends. I thought I didn’t need them. I had Tim, I had Jon, I had you…and I had my research. That’s all I needed. But since I took over from Michael…”

His heart ached in sympathy, but he tried to push away the feeling. Deceit and deception, that was the Spiral’s game, he couldn’t fall for it.

“Sounds like a terrible deal, if you ask me,” he said with an awkward laugh. “You get some company and I get, what? A headache? Death?

“Company too. And freedom.”

His mind latched onto that last word that a life jacket and refused to let go.

“Freedom? I- what do you mean?”

She leant down, body bending at an unnatural angle, eyes wide. “You do not like the Eye. You want out. As I said, there is no escape without sacrifice, but the Spiral will treat you kinder than your current master. There will be no seeing, Knowing, no compelling- just the freedom of confusion. And you do not fear confusion, do you?”

Even just the thought made his chest feel light, made him feel as if he could finally breathe for the first time in months. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew what she was offering – twisting deceit, monstrosity in another form – but then why did it sound so good?

She was right, after all, it was the Eye that haunted him, not the Spiral.

"Will...will it even accept me?"

"The Eye has a tight grasp on you, but I think I have the power to undo it."

If he was to be a monster, if that fate was inescapable, then goddammit, why not on his own terms?

He took her hand.

She helped him up, nails digging into his skin, digging into the flickering black. Soon, he thought, giddy and nauseous, that will be gone.

"This will hurt," she warned.

"I Know."

She smiled. "You won't for much longer."

Three hours later, Jonathan Sims entered the bathroom to find it covered in glass, one of the mirrored shattered. He made a move to leave, call a janitor, when he saw something on the floor- two things, tucked into the corner behind the sink.

A pair of familiar, cracked glasses, and a shiny black ring.

#this isn't my usual style of writing. i really dont know how this happened #okay i do i had the very last bit of dialogue stuck in my head and wanted to do something with it #Martin blackwood #Sasha James #the magnus archives

[mrsbhandari]

Shutter - pt 5

a/n: bonjour!! sorry that this is a little bit later than i thought i would post it, i went to do a bunch of stuff today oop-- anyway, i hope you like this one!! also the instagram post described with nia and tyril is this one by the lovely lxdy-starfury because i like to think that they become good friends and share a love of books teehee.

warnings: there’s a section here that’s nsfw (masturbation) so uh yeah

words: 3k

tags: @lxdy-starfury, @huntress1024, @anotherbeingsworld, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @chaotic-ramsay-queen, @brycemaloliver

#

Jesus Christ. That was the first thought Naexi had when she nodded and Tyril slotted his lips against hers, effortlessly molding to her mouth as if they had been together for years. He tasted sweet, like funnel cake at the carnival and shared laughs as powdered sugar covered her mouth. In an instant, he hopped down from his stool and stood closer to her, gently placing a cold finger under her chin and positioning her head for an even better angle. Naexi’s head spun, feeling her mouth open and his tongue brush hers. She let out the smallest of whimpers, and all bets were off. He was borderline desperate to taste her, feel her, with his hands traveling down to her hips and pulling her close by her belt loops. 

He took her chin in one hand and tilted her to the side, exposing her neck and allowing him to trail his lips down her skin. Gasping, her fingers found his hair and the messy bun he’d thrown it in before tugging on the hair band and freeing the raven locks to fall down to his shoulders. She tangled her fingers into it, relishing how fluffy and soft it felt against her palm, images of it splayed out on the pillow below her and it hanging over her face as he looked down on her flashed into her mind, making her dizzy with desire for him. The feel of his fingertips finding their way under her sweatshirt and gingerly running across her stomach shocked her senses. His hands were cold, but soft, and gave her goosebumps wherever he stroked. 

“You’re so beautiful.” His voice was husky in her ear before his mouth pressed a soft kiss to her neck, smiling against her skin when he felt a shudder go through her body. Their time was cut short by a loud ringing coming from his pants pocket, making them both jump.

“Dammit--Hello?” he impatiently answered, lips swollen and hands still twitching against her skin. 

“You’ve been there a while, boss. Just wanted to make sure she didn’t force you to write her into your will and kill you.” Imtura sounded bored on the other end of the line.

“Is that even possible?”

“You’d be surprised.” 

“Ignoring that...ominous statement, yes, I’m fine.”

“Did she say yes?” Naexi gave him a confused look, but he just offered a small, embarrassed smile in return. 

“I...didn’t get a chance to ask yet.”

“Ah, I see.” She didn’t say anything else.

“Well...I’m going to go. I’ll be on my way soon.”

“Later, boss. Oh, and uh--” He could practically hear her grin through the phone. “--give her a kiss for me.” 

Tyril hurriedly hung up the phone and slammed it down on the counter, face flushing a bright red at Naexi’s laughter. 

“Was that the bodyguard I met at the shoot?”

“Imtura, yes. She’s…”

“Fantastic!” Tyril rolled his eyes.

“Sure, we’ll go with that.”

Trailing her fingers up his sharp jaw, Naexi gave him a small smile. “What did you want to ask me? Does it have to do with the ‘favor’?” He hummed and closed his eyes, enjoying her gentle touch.

“Yes, my father has a charity gala coming up and I would like you to come with me.” He opened his eyes and bit his lip, making Naexi wonder what else he could do to get any sexier. “As my date.”

“A fancy rich people gala....with the girl who hated you when she first met you because you’re rich....sounds like a disaster, Tyril.” She looked away, unsure, but the moment he leaned down to her ear and whispered “Please” in her ear, she knew she was putty in his hands. “Fine!” He grinned down at her, making her knees weak. “But you owe me.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, one that had her leaning forward for more after he pulled away. “Anything.” His smile seemed to hold the promise of the world in it. 

She believed it.

#

Tyril sat heavily on the leather couch of his apartment, quiet and empty without Naexi’s smile to brighten it up. The feel of her lips against his and her body in his palms was intoxicating, enough so that his head still felt fuzzy and his pants still felt tight. He’d never felt this way for anyone after Kaya left him, and half of him felt completely ashamed for thinking of Naexi that way. The other half of him was extremely turned on. 

Making an executive decision, he stood and walked to the bathroom, turning on the water and stripping down, waiting for it to heat up. In that time, he couldn’t help but think of how perfect she looked in the candlelight of her kitchen, shadows flickering on her face and sharpening the roundness of her face. He looked at himself in the mirror, noticing how hard he’d become at the thought of her so close to him.

“What are you doing to me, Naexi?” he whispered to himself, turning back to step in the shower. The hot water hit his muscles just right, washing away the tension buried so deeply in his shoulders. If he closed his eyes and dreamed, he could imagine that it was her hands running across his back, kneading her fingers into the flesh and trailing down to his sides. He shuddered and braced one hand against his shower wall, nails scraping the grout. He resumed his fantasy, thinking of her soft hands sweeping down over his hips before wrapping around his hard shaft. He gasped as he felt the pressure surround him, water dripping into his mouth and off his chin from the hair that was plastered against his forehead from the steady stream of the shower hitting him. Her hand moved and she was whispering in his ear, walking around to face him as she got him off, forcing him to look at her in those big green eyes that had him in a trance.  

“C’mon, pretty boy, come undone for me.” Then she was kissing him and he could feel himself reaching his peak and spilling over his hand, ripping him from his mind as he opened his eyes to see that he was alone in his shower with his rapidly softening dick in his hands under a stream of water that was no longer as comforting as it was just a few minutes ago. Laying his forehead against the warm tile, he closed his eyes again and pictured her pretty face as his breath slowed.

#

“You sly dog!” Mal clapped Tyril heavily on the back, making the latter man nearly choke on his coffee. Being friends with Mal typically came with the inevitable injuries from the man’s brute strength and touchiness, and Tyril often wondered how exactly he hadn’t ended up in the hospital from one of his ‘friendly’ punches. 

“I am nothing of the sort,” he deadpanned, keeping his gaze forward as they walked. 

“Aw, come one, killer, admit it.” Tyril sent a sidelong glance to Mal. “You’re falling in love with her.”

Tyril rolled his eyes. “It’s far too early to say anything as serious as that.”

“But you’re at least falling for her,” Imtura corrected, holding a long index finger up. “No offense, boss, but after Kaya left--” He winced at the name. “--you were a whole mess. Like, watching rom-coms while crying and eating ice cream kind of mess. Like--”

“Yes, yes, I was broken up that my fiancee cheated on me and planned on buying my company out with her lover, who just so happened to be my biggest competitor. I was a mess who immediately dismissed the entire idea of love because if someone could really hurt me that bad, then what’s the point of believing that there’s any good in the world?” Imtura opened her mouth to speak, but Tyril continued. “Which is why I throw myself into my work and shun dating altogether because I’d rather focus on the good I know I can cause rather than the unguaranteed good of someone to date and marry.” He realized that his two friends were staring at him. “Were you going to say something different?”

“No, I was just going to say that you needed to get laid. I think that proved my point.” Imtura and Mal laughed, exchanging a fist bump as they walked after Tyril. He just rolled his eyes. “Plus, didn’t Kaya also screw over your competitor, too?” 

“What’s your point?”

“I’m just saying that at least you’re not the only one.” 

“You’re right, I feel so much better now. No more therapy for me!” 

Mal exaggeratedly shivered. “Hearing you sound sarcastically happy is creepy.”

“Listen, all I’m saying is that it’s good that you’re getting back out there! I’ve had enough of you moping. My job would be so much more exciting if you did stupid stuff because you’re heartbroken.” 

“Plus, now you’ve got a total babe to go to the gala with,” Mal interjected, earning an exasperated sigh from Tyril. “What? I’m right!”

#

“You made out?!”

“Shhhhhh!” Naexi waved off a few nosy patrons of the store before turning back to her best friend, who was trying to silently freak out on the couch. “Yes, we did.” 

“If I don’t get a detailed play-by-play right now, I’m literally announcing to the entire store that you made out with a billionaire.” 

“Well, you already half-announced it.” Naexi explained what happened in her apartment to Nia, who would interject with random squeals and squeaks at certain points, nearly spilling her coffee on her friend at one point. Finally, when she was finished, Nia was bright red and fanning herself.

“Wow! And now you get to go to the gala! You’re like a princess,” she sighed, earning a scoff from Naexi. She was about to retort, but her phone buzzed on the table. 

PICTAGRAM: @tyrilstarfury is now following you.

Nia glanced over her shoulder at the screen. “Ooh, getting serious, hm?” she taunted, poking her friend in the side and giggling. Nia’s own phone lit up, detailing an alert on Tyril’s name in a tweet. “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh? What are we uh-ohing?” Naexi glanced over at the Zizzfeed account pulled up on her screen with a tweet reading “Who did Tyril Starfury follow on Pictagram?” with a link to an article featuring countless old gifs between sporadic sentences about the bachelor and his odd following of a random photographer’s account on social media. “What the hell?! How are they so fast?” 

“You’re famous!” 

“Did you forget that I’ve been published in multiple magazines, including Vogue, one of the most notorious fashion magazines in America?”

“I feel like Zizzfeed is like, officially famous, though.” 

#

“It’s not uncommon, I’ve always had news sites like that one sticking their noses into my business.” Tyril scowled into his glass of water. They were sitting on his couch, making his large apartment feel less empty with full kisses and even fuller laughter. She reached up a hand to trace his jaw, bringing his gaze up to hers. 

“It was just a little shocking, is all.” He reached a hand up to his hair and brushed a few strands out of his face. He seemed bashful, not at all like the typical powerful man she’d come to know in just a few short days. It made her heart melt. 

“I understand that this whole billionaire thing can be overwhelming, and I don’t want you to feel pressured to stay with me if it makes you feel uncomfortable with all the eyes that might be on you--”

“Tyril.” He stopped his rambling and looked at Naexi, all wide eyes and sweet smiles. “I don’t want to read any stupid news about you because I have the source right here. I want to be with you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it earlier, but I’m here now, hm? Kiss me, please.” He grinned happily obliged, their lips coming together easily in an act that had his head swimming every time they did it. Her mouth trailed down his throat, leaving pinpricks of heat as her teeth nipped at his skin, sure to be the reason he would need to wear turtlenecks for the rest of the week. 

“You’re a troublemaker,” he murmured, breath heavy under her touch. 

“Let me guess.” She leaned back, but their faces were still close. It was torture. “You were a good little boy who didn’t associate with the likes of little girls like me.” She ran her finger over some of the new hickeys decorating his skin, making him hiss. 

“Let me guess...you were a little girl who teased little boys like me.” His hands wrapped around her thighs and effortlessly pulled her into his lap. 

“That’s because I didn’t realize how naughty those little boys could be.” She was straddling his hips and he felt like he was living the teenage years he never got to have, full of raging hormones and obvious hickeys and immature laughter. Her body was pure warmth in his hands, heating his body up from its usual cool temperature. She had a red sweatshirt on, complementing the dark gray sweater he had chosen for himself after what seemed like hours of deliberation, eager to look perfect for her. Those words surprised him. It seemed like every step he took revolved around those words. 

For her. 

#

Beside her, a phone buzzed and she looked at the headline that took up the top space of her notification bar: TYRIL STARFURY SPOTTED ON DATE WITH VOGUE PHOTOGRAPHER. She clicked on it and was immediately met with a large photo, no doubt taken by a paparazzo on the sidewalk across the street from a local ice cream shop they had visited together. The picture featured a typically stoic Tyril smiling with a dot of chocolate ice cream on his nose, placed there by his new girlfriend who just wanted to make him happy. She smiled down at the picture and saved it to her phone, sending a screenshot of the article to Tyril. 

NAEXI: I still think this was a cute look. Shame it didn’t last longer. 

TYRIL: I seem to recall the reason it didn’t last long.

NAEXI: Enlighten me.

Tyril let out a small laugh and sent an embarrassed smile to Mal, who gave him an odd look in across the table in their conference meeting. 

TYRIL: You insisted on licking any ice cream off me, remember? I’m surprised the paparazzi don’t have more scandalous pictures. 

NAEXI: I’m going to email the pap and ask if I can have copies of the rest.

TYRIL: You wouldn’t!

NAEXI: Too late.

NAEXI: He said yes!!!

# 

Nia’s attempted sneaky picture was thwarted by the loud shutter sound that jolted the both of them. Tyril looked up from his book with furrowed brows. 

“What are you doing?” Nia flipped her phone and showed him the picture, which turned out surprisingly good considering the jostling. 

“Can I post it? Look how cute you look!” she exclaimed, hopeful eyes matching his tired ones, framed by his glasses. 

“Sure,” he confirmed, smiling a little when she let out a little cheer. She was busy tapping away at her phone while he leaned forward and tried to catch glimpses of what she was doing when she pressed a button and laid her phone back on the table. His phone lit up with a Pictagram notification a few seconds later, telling him of how @niaellarious_x tagged him in a photo. 

He looked down at his hair that fell nicely over his shoulders and the turtleneck he’d been forced to wear by Naexi, who was ever enthusiastic when given any sort of access to the sensitive skin on his neck. Liking the photo, he scrolled down to the comments and skimmed through the hundreds already asking how Nia knew Tyril, settling on one in particular that made his heart pound. 

@naexi_c gorgeous 

#

“I’m thinking about wearing this one for the gala,” Naexi said, holding up a violet dress that hung limply on the hanger. From what he could see, it was long and looked smooth, and he tried imagining her in it, but could only envision her in what she was in now, a pair of shorts and yet another sweatshirt. On anyone else, he was indifferent to baggy clothing, but on her, it only left him wanting more. She seemed to know the effect she had on him, stretching often to allow a sliver of her stomach to be revealed. His fingers twitched at his sides as she did it again. 

“Are you not going to try it on for me?” She laughed and hung the hanger back up. 

“You’re not slick, handsome. I see right through you.” Reaching out a hand that he grabbed, she walked over to where he was seated on her bed. He placed his lips on the center of her palm and brushed his lips over the inside of her wrist. 

“You’re right, I should know that you look beautiful in everything.” 

She leaned down and placed a kiss on his cheek before moving to his lips, where she simply said, “Sap.”

#

“Finally! I’ve officially kicked your ass!” Mal pumped his fist, nearly throwing his controller out of his hands.

“This is Mario Kart, it’s not like it required any actual skill…” Tyril grumbled, taking a sip of water from the glass on the table next to him. 

“Hand-eye coordination, bitch!” 

“Mal!”

“Aw, c’mon, am I not allowed to celebrate my victory?” Tyril rolled his eyes and threw the controller down on the cushion, left dissatisfied by the soft clatter it made. Checking his phone, he missed Mal’s scoff. “I can see I’m no longer the only one in your heart. It wounds me!” 

“Everything wounds you,” Tyril muttered, smiling a little at the text that appeared on his screen. 

“When am I gonna meet this chick, hm? She seems to have left quite the impression on you.” Mal wiggled his eyebrows over the glass of whiskey he was about to drink. Tyril remained unfazed and kept his eyes on his phone. 

“The gala.” 

“Two more days of having to snap for your attention!” Mal set his cup down heavily and realized that Tyril was sucked into his phone again. He snapped his fingers above the screen. “Hello?!”

#tyril #tyril starfury #choices tyril #blades of light and shadow #blades au #choices blades #blades

[hecohansen31]

Hello! I don't know if you are taking requests but, if you are, could you maybe do some fluffy stuff about Bill calming someone from a anxiety attack?Just making them feel that everything it's ok and that she's not alone... I'm having a pretty bad day and I didn't started my treatment yet, so everything it's just so... loud and scary, you know? But if you're not it's ok, really. I also wanted to say that I love your work and that these stories really help go through most of my days. Take care

(A/N): Hey sweetie!

I just wanted to say that I am tremendously sad to hear that you had an anxiety attack and I hope that you are feeling slightly better or will soon and that your treatment will work out for you!

Just take a deep breath (although I know that it is difficult to say this) and just enjoy a bit of this reading!

I also wnated to apologize in advance if this sucks, I am not very good at writing for real people, since I am a bit uneasy about it, but I hope that you’ll like what I wrote, I honestly have to say that I tear up when you said that you love my work and that these stories help you go through you days, because if there is something that I want to do with these silly stories is helping you lovelies!

So I hope for the best and have a nice reading!

WARNINGS: Mention of Anxiety, Anxiety Attack, Awkwardness (also the first part is basically something that my therapist taught me to relax which is couting the parts of your body which touch, which is very helpful for me).

One, your lids.

Two, your lips.

Three, your…

A sob escaped your lips making them part immediately as you moved forward.

Your lungs on fire from the long tiring session you had been having, unable to properly breath as you felt the choking sound of your throat gasping for air.

And for a moment, you thought you couldn’t have made it.

For a moment everything closed around you and your arms moved around you to shield you properly from the reality crashing down onto you.

It had been all too much: the small change in the program, the acid comment of your boss and Bill’s text about how he’d be stuck on set for another week, after he had already been gone for three months to film his newest project.

And you had been left without a slight sniff of your tall boyfriend, with his gentle hands.

He had never witnessed an anxiety attack of yours, because as cheesy as it was you were always calmer with Bill.

It had always been this way, since he had first noticed how uncomfortable you looked in that small party your friend had dragged you to.

Everybody would have been glad that they had been invited to an Hollywoodian party, but you were just worried of dropping your glass of expensive champagne against somebody.

You had stood in your angle and suddenly this handsome man was in front of you, something similar in his eyes and you swore you had seen him somewhere… you just couldn’t remember when or where.

… and then all your knowledge of the net had made you realize that in front of you there was Bill Skarsgard and obviously your first reaction had been.

“… wait you are Bill Skarsgard!” because it was obviously the best thing to shout at a celebrity, even more to one as private as him, but he had simply replied gently.

‘Ah yeah that’s me’ he had seemed at unease and a myriad of thoughts had gone through your head, each one wanting to make you run away, but he had gently offered you an hand ‘… well since you already know my name, why don’t you tell me yours?’.

You had hesitated, more out of surprise than uneasy with the beautiful man, who had simply blushed and shaken his head as he had mumbled.

‘Gosh that was… moronic of me… I shouldn’t… Alex says that they work, but …’.

‘I am (Y/N)… (Y/N) (L/N)…’ you had shot back, breathing out your answer as you stumbled through the world, holding out your hand to grip his, as his face immediately went from nervousness to shock to a sweeter smile ‘… I am just surprised that a god like you wants to speak with a mere mortal like me’.

And then you had just felt awful, but he had just laughed it off embarrassed.

‘I actually think that you are the prettiest girl in the room, so…’.

And then you had blushed softly, biting your lips as Bill led you away from the crowd on the small front porch of the house, as you sat there, talking about how awkward you both felt at this kind of things.

‘… I don’t want to make you feel bad, but I was worried you’d crush the glass in your hands…’ he had joked as you blushed, softly punching him on the shoulder, your glass now empty, helping you with a bit of liquid courage.

‘You literally used the worst pick-up line after “did it hurt when you fell from heaven”?’ you had shot back and his cheeks had also turned a pinkish shade, as you both avoided each other’s eyes, too shy to confront the other.

For a kiss you had needed a bit more of wine, but it had been worth it.

And every moment with him had been worth it.

But three months without him were already too much, although you saw him through the skype calls.

But it wasn’t simply enough.

It wasn’t enough anymore when you had just the shittiest day and everything felt like it was too much to handle for you.

Your mind rushed through the most horrible thoughts as you tried to think what Bill would say to you.

His deep voice always helping you, even more when he did that cute giggle he owned, scrunching his nose in a way that was so so adorable that you had just promised to yourself to kiss it every time it happened.

But then a shocking thought hit you.

He’d think that you were a mess if he saw you like this.

Make-up all ruined form your tears and sweat and each time you had mindlessly touched your eyes to dry the tears and rub them, meanwhile your light lipstick was smashed all over your cheeks, since as soon as you had seen a reflection of yourself you had hated the color and wanted desperately to delete it.

He wouldn’t have stayed if he had seen you like that.

Maybe it was for the better that he wouldn’t be…

“Sweetheart, I am home!”.

For a moment you had thought that your brain had finally moved its endorphins and it was starting to work to distract you from the horrible feeling of tightness in your chest.

And then you heard the door closing.

And understood that Bill was for sure at home.

You shifted closer to yourself almost wanting to hide as you moved closer to the part under the sink, thinking that if you focused enough, you’d match the bathroom floor tiles.

Enough to hide yourself from Bill.

“Sweetheart?” he seemed almost sad that you didn’t answer him, and as a loud breath escaped your mouth, you slapped an hand over your mouth, as you tried to understand if it was all an hallucination or Bill had come home, before.

You didn’t know which one would have been worse.

“… shit maybe I should have told her…she hates surprises” your heart couldn’t help but awake at his serious concern for you “… maybe she is over at Christine’s”.

You hoped desperately that he’d just convince himself of it and maybe go away, because if there was one thing you were sure, hallucination or not, was that you wouldn’t have let him see you like that.

He’d have broken up with you, for sure.

“… I’ll call her” and before you could rush in to switch off your phone, the awful first notes of ‘Daylight’ by Taylor Swift started playing.

This brought you back when Bill had mocked your music tastes and you had pretended to be hurt, but you hadn’t cared in the slightest, singing offkey as he kept on preparing your dinner, and although he wouldn’t admit it, you had heard him sing the first few lines as he was getting ready for bed.

“… babe?” he asked, curiously and again a sob left your mouth, revealing further where you were, and as fast as you could you tried your best to hide yourself turning around a you tried to reach for your phone “…hey, lovely, is anything wrong?”.

Thankfully he hadn’t opened the doors, and gently knocked scaring you as you tried to calm your heavy breathing in order for you to appear as normal as you could with ruined make-up and a face that seemed the same someone would have after their pet died.

“… ahem I was just…” ‘please don’t say anything stupid’ “… pooping”.

“Oh” you could already picture Bill’s blushing face “… sorry sorry, sweetie, I’ll wait for you in the dining room, ok?”.

“Bill, what are you doing here?” you asked as you slowly got up, knowing that confrontation wasn’t avoidable and trying to make up whether hat awful voice that told you that Bill had just come back to you to break up was true or not “… aren’t you supposed to be filming the new movie?”.

“Ahem… yeah and no” his voice always wavered as it always did when he told you an half-truth “… we wrapped up a few days ago, but I wanted to make you a surprise, because today is our anniversary”.

Shit of a fucking shit.

You weren’t worried for the gift.

You had had that ready for a month.

Sometime anxiety had its perks.

But what worried you was the fact that you had literally looked at the day and hadn’t remembered it was your anniversary.

It was also the deadline of your project, which your boss had partially rejected.

The part that you had worked on desperately and almost on your own, which had resulted in the product being a bit imprecise but… it hadn’t seemed so bad.

You couldn’t help but hate the fact that you had been so stressed to have forgotten about it all.

“… sweetie, are you still there?” asked Bill from the other side “…or did the toilet seat swallow you?”

“Ahem no” although you felt that awful feeling of dreadful tightness in your lungs, you still let out a soft laugh “… I just… I don’t think that we should go out, you must be jetlagged…”.

“Actually, I got a bit of sleep on the plain… so… I am ready to dance all night” he mumbled softly, as he shifted closer to the door and you couldn’t help but be almost worried that he’d open it, but he stopped “… but if you aren’t feeling well… we could stay inside, order Greek food and watch whatever awful Netflix comedy you chose”.

He was trying to make you relax, he always used that deep soothing tone and tried his best to make you laugh.

‘You always look prettier when you laugh’ he smirked as he stole a kiss from your cheerful lips ‘…you also taste sweeter’.

“Yeah, I’d like that…” you commented softly “… work has just been crazy hectic and I just… ugh… don’t think that I could celebrate properly, but… we could go out tomorrow I swear that I’ll make it up to you”.

“Of course, sweetie” his tone was so soothing that it only made you feel guilty for having forgotten about it all.

If he broke up with you, you low key deserved it.

“… do you want to talk about work?”.

‘No, I want to set my boss on fire’ you would have wanted to mumble, but simply uttered:

“… wouldn’t want to annoy you, sweetie, you probably already had a hard…”.

“I have had a hard time not having you with me” he gently replied “… I don’t think that anything would be hard enough for me, if you stand by my side”.

A moment of silence made him waver and you felt him pushing himself back, doubting whether he had done the right thing or not.

“… if you feel like talking obviously”.

“The project…” you choked out “… it didn’t go well”.

“Oh sweetie” he almost seemed ready to rush in through the door, but he stopped himself, realizing that you needed this barrier, for a bit more “… you worked so hard for it”.

“Yeah… but Tara said that it had too much imprecisions, and I mean she is right… I should have worked on it a bit more! Gosh I just…”.

And then you were stopped as Bill pushed the door open, revealing your disheveled appearance and you immediately tried to hide yourself, but it was of no use, as Bill went through any resistance you had cradling you in his strong arms, raising you as if you weighted nothing more than a flower.

Touch usually made it all worst for you, but with Bill it felt like some kind of desperately nice sweater, the one that you wore on the rainy days as you cuddled a good book and a cup of hot cocoa.

It soothed you and made you cry even more, as you let all your tension ease through him, and he cuddled you closer gently adjusting you onto the counter of the sink.

He kissed your forehead tenderly releasing your hold onto him, as you instead brought him closer, needing to feel him.

In an almost desperate way.

He was such a grounding force to you right now that you just let yourself reveal to him your deepest side, the one that turned away everyone.

Except him.

He just cooed at you softly, as he kept you in his arms, pushing aside a few strands of drenched hair, as he kissed your neck, softly, a gentle touch.

“… whatever it is, you are not at work anymore, you are in our lovely home, the one that smells of those overpriced shit candles you like so so much” it made you snort a laugh “… you are safe, you don’t have to think about it”.

“The fact is…” and you could already picture his eyes having this shade of ‘what kind of psycho are you’ “… I can’t, I am just too anxious, and it makes me overthink everything”.

But instead Bill’s eyes scanned over your face before understanding settled in them.

“… you had an anxiety attack, didn’t you?”.

“I….” you breathed out all the air in your lungs “… how did you know?”.

“I have lived with you enough to know that you are a little anxious beastie” he commented softly “… you arrive always early, you always act so so stressed with deadlines, you panic badly if I leave you out to a party… I know that some things make you like that…”.

“And it doesn’t bother you?”.

“No” his breath was soft, and it hit your face in a way that warmed your cheeks “… I just… I just want to help you if I can”.

Everybody at this point always left you, no matter how much you promised to keep it under control or to change.

Nobody had ever asked to know how to make you feel better.

“Can… can you get my make-up remover…?” he stood a minute trying to internalize your phrase “… it is making my skin itch…”.

“Of course” and he turned, before sending you a quick look “…wait where is it?”.

And there it was your dorky boyfriend.

You just let out a laugh and told him where he could find it.

A few minutes and a Bill’s shirt later, you were indeed waiting for Greek food as you browsed through Netflix, and Bill joked about you rewatching ‘Hemlock Grove’.

‘… babe you can’t use your celebrity status to impress me, I have seen you in boxers with pigeons’.

‘Pigeons are cute’ he had mumbled as he had set beside you, pushing your head on his chest.

You had told him that his faint heartbeat was the perfect cure for your overworked body ‘… and I know that you are just nervous because you blush so so fucking much when Roman is on’.

‘… just because he is a dork’.

‘A sexy dork’.

‘Didn’t know you were a narcissist’.

And like that you quickly discarded your little banter in a more silent contemplation as you finally felt… at peace, calm, although you were mostly sweeping all your worry under your mug.

But with Bill you felt better, as he softly handled you, kissing you with the gentlest of touches, but not treating you as frail doll or looking at you like he was worried, he just had this natural nurturing way that made him so damnably sexy.

It made you bite your lips.

And it didn’t pass unobserved by him.

“… you, big cutie” he mumbled, a laughter making his chest raise softly “…stop being the most beautiful girl on Earth”.

As much as you loved silly Billy, you felt the need to set a few things straight.

“I am sorry for hiding it… all from you” you lowered your eyes, this time biting your lower lip for nervousness “… it is just…”.

“It’s ok” he spoke as if it was the most natural of things, as if you hadn’t just broken down as a mess in front of him “… I knew it… I mean I had my thoughts, but these are personal things, I wanted to wait for you to feel comfortable”:

“I didn’t want to hide it! It isn’t because I don’t trust you…”.

“I know” again that soothing tone, it made everything better, you swore it could cure world’s hunger “… I know that people didn’t make it easy for you, so I’ll make it as easy as I can”.

And with that he pulled you to look at him in the eyes, something that was difficult for you in that moment, overwhelmed by your senses.

But you pushed through, because you knew that whenever he needed to tell you something important, he needed to have your eyes in his, to make you know that he wasn’t lying to you.

“… when you need me, I don’t care if I am busy with shooting a movie or in the bathroom, pooping…” you smirked lightly “… you come to me and tell me what is happening and when you feel a bit better we can discuss what helps you and what I can do…”.

“Bill… I am sorry but I don’t want to bother you…”.

That was the wrong thing to say, because although Bill didn’t attack you, he stiffened lightly and grabbed your hands gently, turning them and bringing one and then the other to kiss your inner wrists.

“… you, little one, are never ever a bother” he spoke each word dauntingly meaningful “… you are the most precious things I have ever had in my life, anxiety included”.

“We are kind of package deal” you mumbled an awkward smile on your face.

“Then I got lucky, two for one” he joked, and you finally let out a soft laugh, punching him on his shoulder.

“You are a fucking idiot, my friend”.

“Don’t hit me, it’ll cost you, I am a miracle of nature”.

“Whatever you say Pennywise, the dancing clown”.

“Oh, don’t get me started”.

And as the tickling war started, the glimmering ring in Bill’s jacket just waited the right time.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow would have been a better day.

#Bill Skarsgard #Bill Skarsgard Reader #Bill Skarsgard x Reader #Bill Skarsgard Imagine #Bill Skarsgard Fic #Bill Skarsgard Ask #Bill Skarsgard Drabble #Bill Skarsgard Blurb #Bill Skarsgard Fluff #Fluff #Bill Skarsgard Angst #Angst #Bill Skarsgard Oneshot #Bill Skarsgard One Shot

[stellar-alley]

Everfalls

•Chapter 2•

This is based off of the artwork by oceanteeeth on Instagram! Also shout out to my Beta super.rose.cosplays!

(Summary: Eddie finds his father's best-kept secret. Richie gets some well-awaited news. )

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

~

He travelled about an hour northwest, he continued away from the ocean and deeper into the forest. At times it was almost too thick, but he kept going. The sun had begun to rise when Eddie stumbled upon a sign, 'Welcome To Derry'. He glanced down at his map, so close. And he was close. It took the boy a while to square in on the exact coordinates, but once he did, he knew he'd found his father's secret.

It was a house and a big one at that. It stood tall on the outskirts of the city. Far enough out that he could be one with nature and the residents of Derry wouldn't be a bother. Eddie stood in front of the house and let out a sigh laced with excitement and fulfillment. The moment he stepped onto the property he felt it, he felt the magic of a protection spell wash over him.

Smart one dad...

The bunny looked around and he could practically see it, a forcefield of magic surrounded the house. It also made the house seemingly invisible to anyone that wasn't deemed worthy, which made sense, considering humans never wondered why there was a random house no one owned.  By the way it simply let Eddie pass through, he assumed it was a blood spell. Meaning it only allowed those of the bloodline to pass through or anyone deemed worthy by the one who set the spell, or whoever it was passed onto. With that, he removed the beanie that sat on his head, allowing the cool spring breeze to flow through his hair and tickle his ears, it felt nice.

Well I guess this is mine now

He smiled happily at the house that stood before him. The house was surprisingly fairly clean, the same way all the nature in The All Lands was always kept at bay, magic. Yes, there was some dirt, dust and cobwebs, a broken window even, but it was nothing that Eddie hadn't dealt with in the past. As he walked through the house, he couldn't shake the familiar feeling that he wasn't alone. Somewhere, somehow, he knew his father was with him. Just being in the house-made him feel so much closer to Frank than ever before, with his hat, compass, and now the house.

Eddie did a quick walkthrough of the house. The main floor had the essentials, kitchen, living room, dining room and washroom. The upstairs had 3 bedrooms and a washroom. Eddie quietly placed his bag down on the bay window in the room at the front of the house. He liked the bay window and the bed seemed comfy, a little dusty but nothing a good cleaning won't fix. There was also a basement but Eddie got the chills just looking down the stairs, so he closed the door and decided to check it out another day.

As the bunny stood in the kitchen and admired his new house, he debated where to sit before he hoisted himself up and onto the counter. From there he sat and listened peacefully, the house settling, the birds chirping outside and the odd gust of wind that blew by. He stayed like that for a while, in complete harmony with his surroundings.

Suddenly his leg twitched, something that wasn't rare, but also not a coincidence. A moment later he felt that same twitch vibrate through his entire body. He hopped off the counter and shook it off. Quickly, he tried to calculate how long it's been since he last shifted.

Maybe a couple of days? I've been pretty preoccupied with the council on my back, but still, I've gotta go and fucking run free or something. 

This will be good. It's a new town anyway, so I might as well go do some exploring...

With the plan already laid out in Eddie's head, he marched out of the house and gave it one last look before continuing out onto the front lawn. He found a good spot where the grass wasn't too long and he still had a good view of the road to town.

Being a hybrid has its perks for sure, but being half-animal didn't simply mean you had ears and a tail, there was also the shift. Every hybrid could do it, they need to do it. It's like the animal that resins deep within their soul must be let loose every couple of days, or else it begins to get restless, that's when their animalistic side tends to show. This results in humans creating myths like werewolves and vampires, to explain what was happening to the Ancestors who couldn't show their true colours.  

Although the shift isn't what the humans made it out to be, well not for Eddie at least. He's never met a werewolf so he can't really ask if it's the same but he's heard enough stories to know that it's not as gruesome as humans believe it to be. Anyways, for Eddie, his shift is simple.

The teen began by crouching down, low to the ground and getting a feel for the earth beneath him. Followed by the tingle, the same one that you see when a bunny's nose twitches randomly, that tingle. It starts off in his nose, then the feeling washes over his entire body. Yes, there is some pain since the guy is literally shrinking and growing white fur. But there's a magical essence to it that allows the last little part to simply be overtaken by a quick glowing light. Once the light disappeared, there sat Eddie Kaspbrak, who was now in the form of a small white rabbit.

~

Richie Tozier bolted upright in bed. His entire body was shaking with a feeling he'd never experienced before. His skin was covered in a layer of sweat which caused his curly hair to matt to his forehead. The boy tried to get out of bed but failed as his legs were tangled up in his sheets. After mentally cursing out Sleeping Richie, Awake Richie began to tug his feet free from their silky prisons. Just because his feet were free didn't mean he still wasn't a 6-foot tall clumsy mess, because the moment he set his foot down on the floor and began to stand, a wave of nausea washed over him. Richie fell to his knees, dizzy and confused; he looked down at his hands which were swaying back and forth in a blurry haze. Quickly he reached for his glasses on his nightstand and slapped them on his face, but that only made the nausea worse. Finally, he caved and ran to his washroom and fell to the floor in front of his toilet just in time because he immediately began throwing up everything he'd eaten the day before.

After the vomiting stopped, Richie sat on the floor of his washroom and let the cool tile floor beneath him soothe his overheating body. He tried to remember everything he ate the day previous, attempting to pinpoint the substance that had poisoned him. With no luck, Richie flushed the toilet again for safekeeping and trudged back into his room. He looked over at his alarm clock and saw that it was 8 am on Saturday. Usually, Richie would still be in bed for another 3 hours or so before waking up, but after that incident, he didn't think he'd be able to fall back asleep. So he opted to get an early start on the day.

Of course, Wentworth and Maggie Tozier were already awake and in the kitchen, fixing breakfast and discussing their plans for the day ahead. Only did they stop when their son cleared his throat a little too loudly from where he stood at the entrance of the kitchen. When Wentworth saw his son he froze in his stance, "SHH! Maggie, shhh" He put a finger to his lips and shushed his wife, "I think we just stumbled upon the elusive Richard, darling we haven't seen one of these in ages. Do you know how rare they are?" he asked in astonishment as he spoke in an Australian accent. (It's his Bear Grylls impression)

"Ahaaham funny" Richie deadpanned as his dad dropped the act. "Son! Good to see you up so early, what's the special occasion? Are your friends coming over? Wait, crap is it Christmas?" His jaw dropped suddenly, "Shit... It's your birthday isn't it?".

This actually received a subtle laugh from Richie, his dad always put him in a good mood. "Wentworth gets off a good one” Richie chuckled, “Don't worry dad you're in the clear. But uh- I did do something" He began, unsure how to tell his parents he just puked up his lungs in the upstairs bathroom.

Maggie's brow scrunched together slightly as she took a step towards him, "Are you okay Richie?" her head tilted slightly.

"Y-Yeah... Well, I think so"

"You think so? What happened?" Maggie questioned and began inspecting her son.

"I threw up. But not like- a little, like a lot. Like a lot a lot-"

"We got it Rich" Went's lips were pressed into a thin line as he stopped his son from digging himself into a deeper hole.

"Honey, what happened?" Maggie moved to put one hand on Richie's shoulder and the other on his forehead to feel his temperature, "no fever...".

"I-I don't know" He sounded almost defeated, his eyes stayed on the floor as he continued, "I'm nauseous and sweaty and I feel like my bones are just gonna fucking jump out of my body-"

Went cut in, "Language" with a half-hearted tone.

"I don't know what's wrong with me" Richie finished, finally he looked up to see his parents sharing a knowing glance. It was like they were having a conversation with their eyes, no words were said but Maggie and Went both knew what the other was thinking. "What? What's going on? You two meddling kids better tell me what's up or else I swear to god!" Richie had subconsciously slipped into one of his various voices as he pretended to scold his parents.

"Do you want to or?" Maggie asked Went as she motioned to the two.

"I can do it" Went confirmed as he turned his attention back to his son. "Rich, I know we've talked to you about this before and you're ready for this, we know you are, so don't worry okay? Everybody's first full moon is always a big occasion and it'll really be-".

"MY FIRST FULL MOON?" Richie gasped, his eyes had doubled in size as he stared at his parents in shock, "No way! What? Really?" He asked eagerly, "How are you so sure?".

"You've got all the symptoms. Nausea, vomiting, weak bones, it's all there honey" Maggie pipped up with a small smile, "Aw, my boy! Going through his first transformation already" Her smile only grew wider as she went to hug Richie. He let her hug him only for a moment before he wiggled out of her grasp.

The full moon was a big occasion for the Tozier family, as it was for every other Ancestor. Although the Tozier's didn't associate themselves with the Ancestors in any way, Wentworth left that life behind him when he chose love, all those years ago. Once he was an Ancestor like every other werewolf was, he lived in one of the bigger cities near Maine, the sister city of The All Lands, Everfalls. He grew up there with his parents and his younger brother West. Even with all of the lessons taught to him throughout the years,  at the age of 14 Went still snuck out to the human world and he met a human girl named Margaret, who he'd grow to fall madly in love with. The love birds had a plan to run away and live their lives together, but the council caught a whiff of their little runaway plan. They made Wentworth choose between staying in Everfalls or being forever banished to the human world. (Since an Ancestor could never marry a human) Of course, he chose Maggie, he chose love. He was never the biggest fan of the way the council ran things anyway, so he was more than happy to finally be out of their grasp.

Wentworth and Maggie Tozier went on to get married and even have a kid of their own, Richie Tozier, who we all know and adore. The thing with raising a werewolf in the human world was that it was a challenge keeping their secret, a secret. Both Went and Richie had pointed fluffy wolf ears, instead of normal fleshy human ears, those weren't too hard to hide. Richie got away with it by giving the school some forged doctor's note that claimed he needed to wear a hat because of how the fluorescent lights in the classroom fucked with his hair. So Richie usually wore beanies and snapbacks which hid his wolf ears. But that wasn't all, the father and son also both had long wolf tails that sat right at the bottom of their back. These weren't hard to hide, just more of a pain. Normally Rich would wear multiple layers of sweaters and jackets, so he could hide his tail in the layers. But no matter how he hid it, at the end of the day he always returned home with an ache in his back and a minor headache.

In places like The All Lands and Everfalls, werewolves would've been taught at a young age how to shift from human to wolf and vice versa, but those who were never taught as pups usually experience their first full transformation after their 16th birthday. Richie had turned 16 in March and it was currently May, so it made sense.

"So what are we gonna do? Go terrorize the villagers? Or go plot our revenge against the Ancestors and that damned council?" Richie schemes, he rubbed his hands together in an evil manner, ya know like Dr. Doofenshmirtz.

"Hm yeah maybe" Went played along for a moment before he dropped the act, "Probably just the usual, you, me, down in the cellar".

The Tozier's chose this house for one main reason, aside from the fact that it was DIRT CHEAP, it had a cellar with a hefty door which made it perfect for full moons, so the werewolves wouldn't get out.

"But seriously Rich, now's the time you've really gotta be careful, alright? Any small thing can make you go all wolf and the last thing we need is a call from your teacher claiming you ate another student" Went was cracking a joke but the message still got through.

Even without the full moon, Richie always had to be careful. Whether it was watching his anger or making sure his hat was positioned correctly, he always had to be careful. If he lashed out in class, he'd feel his fangs begin to lengthen in his mouth and need to go to the bathroom to calm himself down. If he got a bad mark on a test and curled his fingers into tight fists. When he'd unclench his fists to find small semi-circle nail marks on the palms of his hands that were on the verge of bleeding because his claws were coming in. He was always careful. 

It's one of the reasons why he used comedy and sarcasm as a defence mechanism. It was a way to get the message across without throwing punches and risk killing his poor victim with his enhanced strength.

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'll be careful. Now can I get something to eat before I go and eat those three little pigs?"

(get it? Cause... ya know, Big Bad Wolf, Richie's a werewolf? Three little pigs? Get it? I know I'm hilarious.)

~

Since it was Saturday, Richie spent the day lounging around the house doing whatever he pleased. He'd start off by playing some video games in the basement and maybe even do some homework in the living room while his parents watched their usual Saturday afternoon cooking shows together. By 3:00 pm the teen werewolf had sprawled out on the floor of his bedroom and read comics.

Ms Marvel had just finished saving Jersey city when Richie closed the comic and stood up. He began to walk out of his room but stopped in the doorway when he noticed the way the sun beamed into his room. The urge to look out his window filled his body as he turned and made his way towards it. 

It was a sunny day for May which was nice, especially since it practically rained the entire month of April. The sun brought a new look to the Tozier's backyard, which Richie's room looked out to. It's warm afternoon light made everything just a little brighter, Richie could feel the edge of his lips tug upwards and into a warm smile with the sunlight that warmed his cheeks.

Something moved. Richie caught it out of the corner of his eye. He titled his head and focused on the spot where he'd seen the movement. The creature was easy to spot as it contrasted against the greenery in the Tozier's backyard. A little ball of white fluff sat peacefully in the grass. Richie smiled a little brighter at the sight of the cute little white rabbit.

Haven't seen one of those in a while

The thought drifted to the surface of Rich's mind as he studied the precious little bunny. Its nose twitched and one of his ears flopped slightly. "Awwe" Richie cooed at the cuteness of the little rodent. He scrunched up his nose as his smile grew wider. 

"Cute, cute, cute" he mumbled to himself and watched the bunny hop off into the hedges.

Later that day when dinner time rolled around the Tozier's sat in comfortable silence with the TV on low in the background. Richie finished chewing on the piece of steak he had in his mouth before he asked, "Have you guys seen any white rabbits lately?". The question stemmed from the fact that Richie had seen countless rabbits throughout his lifetime, yet he couldn't bring himself to remember if any of them had ever been purely white.

Maggie and Wentworth had another silent conversation with their eyes. "No... Why? Did you see one, honey?" Maggie asked with curiosity, she set her fork down on her plate and looked across the table at her son.

"Uh- yeah I saw one when I was reading, it was out in the back" Richie explained, "It's not like a saw an alien" Richie let out a forced chuckle since the air in the room had become tense.

"No, it's just odd. You know why white rabbits are so rare?" Went asked, he didn't wait for a response as he just kept going, "White rabbits are a symbol for magic. If you were to go to any land populated with Ancestors, all you'd see are white rabbits. They rarely ever come onto human territory".

The young werewolf's eyes grew wide, "Wait, so are you telling me that we had an Ancestor on our property today?".

Went scratched his head and contemplated the different options that could explain the event, "No... Not necessarily. Not every white rabbit is part human. Yes, some are-

Maggie cut in, "It could've just been a rabbit who spent too much time in Everfalls or The All Lands. Or maybe it was enchanted?" She looks over at her husband for backup.

"Precisely" He winked at his wife. "I wouldn't worry too much about it Rich. Just let us know if you see it again" Went concluded, he then proceeded to dig into his steak, his incisors had come to a point, his fangs out. Richie lightly rolled his eyes and let an amused huff of air out through his nose before he followed suit and continued his dinner.

Word Count: 3275

Hello ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to chapter 2! I really hope you guys are liking this as much as I like writing this. Let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter and if you're excited to see what happens next!

Don't forget to like, comment and share! It motivates me to write and show you enjoy my content.

See you next Friday with chapter 3!

Until next time

So Long and Goodnight!

#it!everfalls #richie tozier #beep beep richie #werewolf richie #Richie is big dumb #reddie #eddie kaspbrak #losers club #incorrect losers quotes #the losers club #incorrect losers club quotes #it chapter 1 #it 2019 #it 2017 #it chapter 2 #it #bill hader #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #stanley uris #stan uris #fanfic #fan fic #fanfiction #werewolf #werewolf au #super powers #superpowers

[angel-deux-writes]

I don’t think I’ve ever talked about this On Here, but I really want to tell the story of the guy who put in my kitchen floors because it was terrifying

im putting it under a cut bc it’s probably not that long, but who knows.

(scrolled back up after i actually wrote it to confirm that it is in fact long)

Some backstory is that I was INCREDIBLY lucky and got my condo very cheap in a neighborhood I already knew I loved. The other unit I’d looked at was a full 30k over my budget, but this one was perfect because the owner hadn’t updated ANYTHING since it was built in 1985, so it was just...awful. Awful rugs, awful floors, awful walls. My dad is like...the dad who loves a project, so he was all “I can fix all of this except the floors!!! it’ll be great!!”, so I bought it. We hired a local company to do the floors, not wanting to go to Home Depot or whatever (Which i still support in theory, just......not this company lmao). Everything except the kitchen and bathroom was originally carpet. Hallways, stairs, every single room. And it was cheap industrial carpet, too. Like the kind in office buildings. The dude who did the carpet was like “what the fuck were they thinking???” 

Also, one of the carpets had a truly upsetting rusty stain, so. My guest bedroom might be haunted. 

Anyway, the carpet guy was great. He was the owner of the company, and he was older and very kind. I had my mom come over with me when he was doing the carpets, but I didn’t even need her there. He was cool. His son was in charge of the hardwood portion (I say “hardwood”. I mean, like, the cheapest laminate while still looking nice lmao). He was less great. He had a team of like 3 dudes and 1 lady who would show up and work, doing my office/dining room and upstairs hallway. I know carpet is easier, but the carpet guy took one day, and these guys took a week and a half. They messed up a few times, and it was kind of stressful, but overall it was okay. They had to redo all the subfloors, because condos built in 1985 were almost universally built in buckwild, impossible-to-explain ways, so it took forever. The hardwood guys were loud as hell, but they were nice! 

At one point, one of the nicest guys accidentally broke a few of my kitchen tiles while putting in the transition from the wood to the tile. I was cool with it, tbh, but he offered a discount on a new kitchen floor because, shocker, the subfloor under the broken tile was really jacked up, and it wouldn’t be as simple as taking a tile from under the fridge and replacing it. I was like, okay, cool! We set it up. 

I did not hear from them for four months. Which, I get it. It was a discounted job, so obviously they wanted to do full-price jobs first. I have no problem with that. The same hardwood guys came back to do the subfloor, and then they were like “okay [the owner’s son] will contact you about the tiles. That took about a week. Finally, I got a date. It was a Friday, a day when my sister was already working from home, so she was like “yeah, I can handle it.” She works in interior design, so she’s used to dealing with construction people, and she was REALLY useful when it came to talking down the son of the owner, who was like...every bad stereotype about contractors meshed with a used car salesman. 

So I’m at work the day the tiling is supposed happen. My sister is fine at first, texting me about how the son showed up with one single guy, and then left, so it was only the single guy working. She was annoyed like “it’s supposed to take one day, right? That’s what they said? There’s no way he’s finishing at this pace. Why are they making this guy do the whole thing by himself?”. She called him “nice, kind of cute, but a very slow worker”. I was like ‘well, if they have to come back tomorrow, whatever, that’s fine’.”

Around 10:30 she starts texting me increasingly insane shit. 

“He’s talking to himself downstairs? Maybe he’s on the phone”. 

“He keeps dropping stuff and yelling SHIT really loudly.”

“Someone just showed up with a bag, and he let them in, and they chatted in the kitchen for like ten minutes, and then the person left, and they didn’t take the bag with them”. 

“He’s standing outside using the tile cutter and SCREAMING whenever it’s on.”

“He’s out in the rain and shout-singing something while he’s cutting tile”

“He is BARKING LIKE A DOG TO THE TUNE OF THE RUGRATS THEME SONG CAN YOU PLEASE COME HOME”

I’m half convinced she’s making this shit up, but she’s uncomfortable so I tell my boss what’s going on and race home. When I get there, there’s a vaguely adam driver looking guy who seems nice enough. A little startled to see me, but we make pleasant conversation, I see that he’s not very far along, and then I go upstairs to see my sister. I brought her takeout as a treat, and we sit there for a while talking about normal things. Gradually, downstairs, the dude starts talking to himself. I’m thinking that’s still not THAT weird. Then he starts singing and clapping along. Okay, a BIT weird, but not terrible. I decide to go downstairs into the living room and play some Playstation. Like, maybe he thinks we can’t hear him upstairs and he’ll be more chill when i’m down there? NOPE! HE ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT! He does the barking thing again (and it is, in fact, the rugrats theme song), he’s working at a pace of about one tile per hour, and he starts singing a song that consists only of the word “bitch” over and over again. 

I’m texting my dad, freaking out, and he tries to get in contact with the owner or his son, but nobody’s answering the phone. My other sister and her friend are on their way for game night. My sister’s boyfriend should be home soon from work, but not soon enough. It is, at this point, 7 pm. There is absolutely no chance he’s getting these tiles done today. He’s not even halfway done. My kitchen is VERY SMALL, by the way, so this reasonably could have been done in a day with two people, but I suspect that because it was a discount job, we got the discount treatment. 

My other sister and her friend show up, and the guy is perfectly pleasant and normal to them. We all go upstairs into my sister’s room, and we sit there, waiting in silence for it to start again, hoping that maybe with more people in the house, he’ll be okay. 

NOPE! He starts singing the “bitch” song again. I distinctly remember my other sister whispering “I love this song” and pretending to groove, which was kind of funny but NOT THE TIME. I’m sitting on my sister’s bed clutching a camp axe like a maniac, because I’m like “we are going to be killed by this giant kylo ren asshole”. I’m still texting my dad, who’s like “if you need me to come over, I can, i’m out of work”, but at this point it’s almost 8 and I’m also thinking about my neighbors. Like, he can’t be here at night. He just can’t. He’s so loud even just doing regular tile things! 

I muster up LITERALLY EVERY IOTA OF COURAGE THAT I HAVE, and I head downstairs. I ask him when he’s planning on wrapping up, because I know there’s no way he’s going to finish tonight. He tells me it’ll probably take about two more hours. That is 1) absolutely not true and 2) not something I’m willing to deal with because I live in a condo with neighbors on either side of me, and one of my neighbors is a truck driver who gets up at like 4 am! So I explain that my friends and I have an obligation to get to, and I would love it if we could arrange for someone to continue the work tomorrow. He’s SUPER NICE ABOUT IT and is like “oh, okay, no problem!” He leaves. Just...walks into the rain. Leaves all his tools and his tile cutter. I move it inside because it was on my front porch and it is, again, raining. 

My sister, a Nancy Drew Game fiend, starts searching the entire downstairs and eventually finds the plastic bag that someone brought him. My other sister, who is a nurse in a hospital that primarily treats overdose patients, is like “yep, that’s drug residue for sure”. I’m like, okay, so he didn’t hurt any of us, and he was nice, just....high and weird. But it’s over now, so whatever. My dad says he’ll call the owner’s son the next day, and everything’s cool. He also says that he, my mom, and my brother will all come over to watch the football game at my house the next day just to be there (which...im less than thrilled about the football part, but sure). I also beg my friend to drive up from the Cape to pick up his hat that he left at my condo over the summer just so he can chill for a few hours in the morning. 

The next day, the same guy returns, with the owner’s son this time. The owner’s son is like “why did you only get this far along?” but otherwise doesn’t really say anything. The barking guy is TOTALLY FINE, totally polite. My friend lingers as long as he can, but there’s an ice storm coming, so he peaces out eventually. I’m alone for about an hour with the guy, and nothing happens. He’s quiet, even when the owner’s son peaces for a bit. My parents show up, we watch the football game, and nothing happens. I feel like A LUNATIC, because my dad is like “he seems fine now” and I’m like NO BUT YESTERDAY WAS TERRIFYING. 

Anyway, so that’s the story. I didn’t end up saying anything to the owner’s son, but my dad reamed him out a bit for sending only one person to do a job meant for two. And now every time I drive by that business I suppress a shudder, and sometimes the barking version of the Rugrats theme song still gets stuck in my head.

#genuinely it was so so scary but he never even did anything? he was just weird #and almost definitely high #the barking thing was almost funny? like it would have been funny if he wasn't in my house

[musedblues]

Hello Again

Part 1 of (maybe 2?)

W/C: 8k

Summary: Gwilym has always been around, somewhere in the background of your fast-moving life. But when summer comes along, you finally slow down enough to take a closer look.

Warnings: Allusion to/ Mentions of alcoholism? Nothing too horrific! 

A/N: I’m writing again! Rather, finally getting around to uploading things I’ve had written for ages. There will be a second part to this in the very near future! Please enjoy my hopeless fantasizing, gang! (and don’t be afraid to let me know if you do!) _

You had nearly forgotten all about your past twenty-three years of living, on your rampage through the American desert: and that was your mission...  To focus on nothing besides soaking up every the last ray of the blistering hot sun before summer vacation was over, and you had to start senior year of college. You were a history major and initially had big dreams of becoming a librarian or a museum director, so that you could enjoy immense hushed quiet all day before going out with your best girlfriends at night.

You loved to take it easy, especially after a night of partying so hard. You and your friends had established yourselves as the college's most wild group up until earlier this year when you nearly KO'd after staying in the hospital for a month due to alcohol poisoning. You took the school year slow, and when summer came, you piled your three closest friends and took off on a stereotypical road trip. Good, clean fun.  

When you weren't driving, your trip was mainly spent poolside, humming along to the static radio Francine toted along with her everywhere. The battery-powered thing would even work in the car sometimes, which came in handy as your vintage mustang wasn't equipped with a port for an aux cord or a radio that worked any longer.

Francine spread her gangly legs across Emma's lap in the back while Tilly sat in your passenger seat, flexing her map reading muscle on a mission to be totally directionally literate by the end of the road trip across the southwest. But then your car broke down forty miles deep into death valley and you all had to cram your belongings and yourselves into the back of a cab. Other friends might not have survived being squished together like sardines. But you made it to the Vegas airport without a foul word between the bunch of you.

Granted, Emma started to cry because the cab smelt of ham and Tilly's beloved map blew across the sandy horizon as you sat on the roadside, waiting to be rescued. You all relied on each other to keep a cool head, like always.

Your three roommates were sometimes too much to handle at once, but over the past three years of college and dates and sickness and flunked classes, you'd be lost without your best friends.

Once you all got back home to California with a bundle of stories to tell and a lot of left over time to fill up, the only thing to do was crash. 

Luckily, your brother's fancy new home was the closest and coolest stop. So you decided to take over his pool house like you were still on some kind of adventure.

"How's your brother so well off? And is he well off.. in other areas?" Francine pipped up. She blew away some of her frizzy strands of hair that made her seem like the coolest hippie alive, with a name to match. Her boldness never faltered in style or speak.

"Hm, strange I've suddenly lost my hearing." You quipped, grossed out by the thought of your brother being lusted after.

"Just don't bother him, okay? I'm welcome in the pool house without question so none of you are allowed to mess this up for us!" You informed. Your brother, Daniel, bought the house earlier in the year sometime when a film project he was apart of paid off pretty well. You'd forgotten anything to do with his big winnings in your previously alcoholic state.

"Oh, just go shower! We're gonna search through the movie cabinet and bask in the glow of this projector." Emma beamed.

The pool house was a studio with a tiny square marble kitchen, a living room complete with a bunch over oversized beanbags, and two twin beds hidden in the sunken pit lounge area. The space was designed in the '70s and the golden shag carpet still remained to prove it. This was the faux frat house your brother escaped to when the fancy chandelier in his adjacent home shone a little too brightly for his liking.   The best part of the pool house was the film projector and the massive pull-down screen, like a tiny personal movie theater. Though your brother was a bigger fan of dated television series', a few classic films found their way into his collection on the wall-length shelf.

You left the hip space to take a breather in the grey tiled bathroom, taking your time washing off the sheen of dust and sweat your road trip disaster left you in. When you returned to the living room to take Emma's place on the sofa while she scampered to the shower, the girls had popped in some movie of their liking.

"Top End Wedding. I've never heard of it." Tilly called from the floor, crawling around to put the disc in the player. She had already placed the cover back into its rightful spot on the shelf.

"What's that even mean?" Francine wondered, snuggling under a furry blanket.

"Shut up and find out like the rest of us." Tilly offered, plopping back against a florescent bean bag.

You chuckled as the movie started, but turned your attention your cell phone after it started too buzz. There was an email from the death valley mechanic addressing the problems he had to fix in order to get your car running again. You typed back a response in a hurry. When your friend's giggles cut through your focus, you clicked your phone off and turned your attention back to the film.

You'd completely missed the first scene, catching only glimpses of lush green islands and a lady with a broken high heeled shoe. But then a familiar voice spoke up.

"I have to take her to court?" Gwilym Lee was on the screen. Of course, he was. He appeared unmistakably himself... but much different from the last time you recalled seeing the man.

You silently chuckled to yourself, wondering whatever became of your brother's best friend. After Daniel and Gwilym finished grad school together, Gwilym was apparently apart of a few major British productions and a well off guy. But between your focus on college and some extra wild nights out, you'd barely seen your brother outside of holiday celebrations. So Gwyilm was hardly ever brought up in conversation. Or maybe he was, and you were just too maxed out to register. Be that as it may, the blue-eyed man was on the screen now... looking rather grown-up.

"My God he's a catch am I right?" Tilly pipped up, sipping vodka she'd found in the mini-fridge. Did she really think so? Dear old Gwilym?

"Look at him! That actress is so tiny next to him, God. Imagine being pinned between him and a wall." Francine swooned, in her usual lovestruck wonder.

And the intrusive thought was frightening to you. Because it seemed almost appealing. Gwilym hugged you goodbye once, some odd years ago. His strong arms were certainly brought a comfort you could still recollect.

"Confirmation that we're all hot for this Ned character?" Tilly turned her pretty feathery head of hair to you. You were busy bitting your thumbnail and wondering when Gwilym had gotten so buff.

"Huh? Oh yeah, Ned's cool." You nodded emptily.

"Pfft!" Francine spat, sitting up and leaning across a pillow toward you. "Get your head out of your car troubles and look at this fine British hunk!"

"I thought this was an Austrian film?" Tilly wondered.

"He's clearly British! Listen up! Haven't you paid attention during the world's fair week?" Francine rang, lifting her own glass of vodka toward the screen.

Your phone buzzed again and you desperately hoped it was the man who would assure your car was liable and you could pick it up and drive it through the desert some more before summer vacation ended. But instead, your brother's name blinked across your dim screen.

Daniel: Are you in the pool house? Come inside for a second. Leave the sorority behind. (No offense)

"I'll be right back. Pools open! Just don't come in the house!" You called out the rules your brother gave you the first time you stayed here. Your friends groaned. You scurried out the window paneled door and across the stone packed pathway to Daniel's deck. The back porch light was on and its reflection glistened off the pool. Was he going to be pissed that you remembered where he hid the spare key and tell your gang to leave? Did he just want to say hello? If he did, why wouldn't he just come out to greet you?

You knocked a couple of times to warn of your requested intrusion. The kitchen was empty and dark but there was a chatter coming from the living room. Your brother must have had company. Why did you need to come in here?

That's when Vinny and Violet came bounding up the basement staircase toward you in a fluffy flurry. They were sibling Burmese Mountain dogs whose nails were clicking against the cherry wood floor as they pranced below your feet; a very excitable greeting.

"Y/N? Come in here!" Daniel's low timbre was heard in from the living room and the sound of clinking glasses followed. Your brother Daniel was standing from his luxurious leather sofa, smiling and gesturing you into the room. On the other side of the sofa was a man you hadn't seen in years, but had just been reminded of only moments ago.

"Gwil is in town! I thought I heard you outside and we were just talking about you."

Oh my God. He was hot. You tried to stifle your shock at the stone-carved beauty of a brother's best friend that rose to his feet before you.

"Hello, again Y/N! Looking very comfortable." Gwil's voice was silky and wonderfully British. The accent would always catch you off guard. But his enchanting voice only reminded you how silly you must have looked in your sad excuse for pajamas. You wore tattered sweat pants and a torn-up tshirt that bared too much of your collar bone to be deemed appropriate.

And the angelic Gwilym was in well-fitted slacks and a dress shirt, blue eyes glimmering, muscles rippling past his perfect clothes.

"Hi, Gwil!" You chimed, really mustering the strength to sound normal. But what was normal between the pair of you? You'd met him a total of three times.

"Why are you all the way over in this part of town?" Daniel wondered, shifting his weight and glancing at you.

"My car broke down in death valley and your place was closest. Hope it's alright if we crash for the night?"

"I left the pool house key out for a reason! It's never a bother. I like that you're comfortable enough to stay. Roxanne never even comes over." Daniel complained about your middle sister. Roxanne was an unassuming girl with an interest in botany that left her camped out in national parks for weeks at a time. Your sister would talk about plants little to nothing else, besides her terrible crush on Gwilym Lee. A shameless attraction you'd all too suddenly understood.

"How's she?" Gwilym asked with a knowing smile. She could never hide the way she melted in Gwil's presence.

"She's been the movies this year, if that's what you're asking."  Daniel chortled. You wondered for a moment if the film your friends had found in the cabinet was one that made it to theaters. Was Gwilym finally featured on the big screen? And did Roxanne really still have that girlish crush?

"She's been seeing a lot of that Max guy, actually. I know because she does, in fact, call me every weekend." You chided, looking to Daniel with a smile.

"Yeah to make sure you're not dead." Daniel retorted. He was never a fan of your wild streak. Bless him. "She's always up to something crazy. Practically Instagram famous." Daniel buffed your confidence, gushing over his very own kid sister.

"I have a few thousand followers, it's really not uncommon." You assured your brother, who'd never gotten more than twelve likes on his own posts.

"Cute." Gwilym smiled. He looked you up and down and if you weren't sporting the world's nastiest pajamas. You'd dare to wonder if he liked what he saw.

"Well I better get back were-" You caught your breath and tore your curious gaze away from your brother's best friend. "...having quite the girls night."

Daniel nodded in response.

"You staying for a while? See you around?" You asked Gwilym. You were a naturally curious girl, and Gwilym Lee was extremely easy on the eyes. Why wouldn't you want to look a little longer?

"Yeah, I'll be in town. See ya around, kid." Gwilym's perfect smile was photograph worthy. But that remark stung. You were just Daniel's littlest sister, to Gwilym.

Later that evening you excused your bout of absence with some white lie about your brother needing help with his dogs after a bath.

The death valley mechanic eventually emailed you with good news, so you text your brother and asked if he could take you through the desert on a mission to get your car back. He happily agreed to take you and to let the girls take over the pool house for the day.

///

Your eyes fluttered open, blinded by the sharp white rays of sun boomeranging off the pool and into the window by your bed. Emma was passed out on the adjacent bed, snoring peacefully. There were more shuffles and chatter from the level above you and you knew the other girls were awake. You heard muted squeals and high pitched whispers floating through the pool house, and among them, a lower voice grumbled.

"Y/N! Ned's here!" Francine's unmistakably excited voice rang out.

"Oh, lovely!" You heard Gwilym let out a far off chortle.

Shit. What! Why? You bolted out of the twin bed and up the couple of steps, feet flying over the inexplicable shag carpet toward the double doors.

Gwilym was dressed for the day, in khaki shorts, a white short-sleeved button-up, and turtle framed glasses hiding the sparkle of his sea-blue eyes. And he was standing in the doorway with that stupid smirk, looking right at you.

"Gwil! Hi?" You reasoned, shouldering past Francine who was clutching the open door frame with her jaw hovering just above the floor.

"I texted you a bunch- but I see you were still asleep." Gwilym grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Is everything alright?" You wondered suddenly. You didn't even care that your hair was sticking in different directions, and the man had already seen your atrocious excuse for pajamas.

"Well, Dan got called into work. Left in a big hurry and asked if I'd help you out today. Fancy a lift? He took his SUV. Left the Buick." Gwil actually smirked, like he was making a sweet deal.

That's when Emma let out a gasp from somewhere behind you. She'd spent the first half of Top End Wedding in the shower, but quickly joined your friends to gush over the main character upon her joining the film

Gwilym's eyes left yours for a moment to glance over your shoulder to the house full of girls.

"Uh... alright." You gave a nervous grin, realizing you didn't really have another option. Daniel trusted Gwilym with his vehicle. If he caught one of your college friends behind the wheel of his car, he'd blow a gasket for certain.

"Uh, give me a minute to get my self together?" You nodded to Gwilym. The pair of you had never really spent any kind of quality time with each other. Only sat beside each other during dinners out with your brother's friends and across the living room sharing jokes. This was very different. Did you trust Gwil?

"Sure. I'll wait here if you lot don't mind." Gwil turned his bright gaze to Francine who's chipped nails were still digging into the open door. The girl gave a subtle nod, watching Gwil creep toward the kitchen counter.

"What the hell is going on?" Tilly laughed as you gestured past her.

"Secrets out! Gwil is a family friend. Please don't freak him out." You groaned, scooting to the bathroom. Tilly gapped at you as you spun into the bathroom to pull yourself together.

After finding an old Sargent Pepper tshirt in your bag and managing your hair into a suitable fashion, you hurried back out of the bathroom to hit the road; praying that your friends hadn't corned Gwilym.

The girls were scattered around the kitchen, leaning against counters with their eyes plastered on Gwil. He was like a wonder of the world. An uncovered treasure splayed out in the open.

You had spotted your sandals by the counter and were stepping into them as Tilly asked daft questions to Gwilym about how he knew me, and just exactly how rich he was. The man answered Tilly with grace and caution. Was he really so easy-going? After apologizing profusely and shooting daggers to your girlfriends it was time to go.

"You can use the pool and the dogs will probably hang out. Francine, you're in charge of disaster prevention!" You pointed your way out of the door, as Gwilym followed with a chuckle. Funnily enough, the brash girl was the clearest head in times of trouble.

Gwilym shuffled toward the garage and as you passed into the musty room, feeling a little sick to your stomach.

"Gwil, are you sure this is how you want to spend your day? I don't want to ask too much of you."

"Oh get in the car. I haven't got a thing to do until Dan gets back tonight. There's no harm in a little road trip, is there?"

"Three hours one way. This is your last chance to back out."

Gwilym was already behind the wheel, buckling his seat belt with a smile. You had no choice but to shrug and scramble in the passenger. At least this ride had a radio.

Five minutes in.

"Where's my turn?" Gwilym panicked, steering the wheel sharply to swerve out of the way of roadkill.

"Next exit. When did you learn to drive in the States? Yesterday?" He was almost too quick to react.

"Ha. Ha." Gwilym produced a dry laugh, speeding up ever so slightly. "Last year. A couple of mates and I spent the summer driving around this very desert, I'll have you know."

"Hmm, I see." You smiled as you tried to picture Gwilym going on some great adventure. As far as you knew, his work was his life. Must be some pretty important pals to have tricked the tall man into having a little long-lasting fun. Was he always so cute when he smiled like that?

20 minutes later.

"It's too late now Gwilym. We're already on the freeway and the next exit is only a private ranch."

"But I want a soda so bad." The Englishman whined. For some reason, that surprised you. You realized you really didn't know this guy at all. But you really wanted too. So you promised Gwilym you'd track down the closest fast-food spot and started into an easy-going conversation.

"What would you be doing today if I wasn't in such desperate need?" You teased but you really wanted to know more about the man. The pretty, pretty man.

"Back home? Probably spending the day at a sports game. Having a few drinks at night. Maybe a film to wrap up the evening? That or working I'm sure."

"Yeah, I'm sure." These were things you already knew about Gwil. But you could have listened to him drone on in that delicatessen accent forever and a day.

"What about you? Still out till the odd hours? Still dating that Rodney fellow?"

You couldn't help but let a snort escape you as you turned your head toward Gwil. Had it really been so long since you'd seen him?

"I broke Rodney's heart three years ago, Gwil. I dated around for a while but it's been a busy time. I've not even had time to drink myself sick all year." You smirked. Gwil let out a shocked chuckle. He was right to do so. You used to have a little too much fun.

"No time to do anything but cram. I've not even been to the movies. What do you know about those?" You grinned. It was his dream to act. You felt a little bad for not keeping better track of the local theater. Surely Gwilym had made it to the big screen by now.

"I heard you saw a certain one last night." Gwil pipped up gently. Ah yes, Francine introduced the man at the door as 'Ned.'

"Yeah, that... We found the tape in the cupboard. Your character was a total catch by the way. Any others I've missed out on?"

Your conversation was flowing, and you felt real true ease between your brother's best friend and yourself. Whether it was circumstantial or genuine, you let yourself sink into an appreciation for the magnetic moment.

"Uh... a few," Gwilym spoke. "Do you like the Beatles?"

"Why were you cast as Mr. Harrison or something?" You giggled at Gwil's change of subject.

"Just wanted to make sure you weren't a fraud." Gwilym smiled, gesturing to your Sargent Pepper shirt.

"I'm no fraud!" You assured. "I love all that old rock and roll stuff." You'd scored tickets to see Ringo Starr before college kicked off. It was the best damn day of your life.

"Good. Let's have at it then, aye?" Gwil managed to uncover an aux chord from bellow the counsel and plugged it into his phone. The man reached out and cranked the radio up to the tune of Do You Want To Know A Secret. And for just a moment as you sang along, you pretended that Gwilym knew you were singing to him.

2 hours in

You stopped at the In-n-Out one hundred miles inward. Gwyilm finally got his soda and a whole lot more. The pair of you split a giant order of fries and traded burgers when you discovered you liked each other's orders better. You both thought about splitting a shake but you convinced Gwilym to get his own. He downed the sweet treat in minutes, but yours sat beading with sweat in the cup holder now. A couple of inches of the frozen drink rippled in a melted puddle as the Buick crept toward a gas station.

Gwilym stood in the heat to fill the car as you disposed of the collection of fast-food trash.

"Should I get more snacks?" You called out to Gwil from across the otherwise empty lot.

"Why don't we just agree to a nice dinner on the way home?" He shouted back. It sounded like a joke but you knew it wasn't. You went on to purchase some sunflower seeds anyway because you'd want to stash some in your car.

"Don't act like you don't want some of these." You prodded Gwils ribs as you both settled back into your brother's car. He shook his head with a grin as you tore open the packet of sunflower seeds.

"You're unbelievable. I guess I'll have a few." Gwil reached a hand out after revving the engine.

"Alright. How much was gas, while we're at it?" You gave the bag of seeds to Gwilym as you reached into your purse for your wallet.

"It's none of your business. My treat, really. Thank you for sharing." Gwil laid the bag of seeds to rest in your lap as he turned the wheel out of the gas station.

"I'll let you have that one but I'll get you back when you least expect it." You grumbled, snatching the seeds for your own again.

"Let's get back to your opinion on American football. We've got a lot to dissect here." Gwilym smirked, hands lose on the wheel, tires steady on the road. He was getting the hang of this yet!

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." It was the unsexiest innuendo of all time, but with gentle prodding, Gwil had begun to easily open up to you.

///

The car dealership was just outside Vegas and your beloved mustang was roasting in the hot sun, ready to be driven back to safer grounds.

You practically fell to your knees before the mechanic who ordered special parts and offered you a discount for all your troubles.

"Just follow behind, I know the way back." You smiled to Gwilym, admiring the way the soft breeze tousled his hair. "Thanks again for this." He was really a good sport.

You had settled into your old mustang, fingers fitting into the worn-out divots in the steering wheel. But you cursed when you reached for the radio. You had really been pampered all day, in your brothers Buick, with groovy tunes and a whole lot of eye candy.

That's when your phone rang. It was Gwilym.

The desert road was wide open, but you still decided to put the call on speaker and rest the phone on your dash.

"Hello?" You laughed, checking your rearview mirror. Gwil drove your brothers Buick a safe distance behind. You swore you could see Gwilym's bright white teeth as he responded.

"Hello! I've just realized that I promised to take to dinner, but I can't very well do that with you leading the way."

"Oh, that's what this is about?" You snorted, eyeing the mountains across the horizon.

"Where shall we go?" His voice crackled from your dashboard.

"There's an exit in about forty minutes with a few suitable options. Nothing movie star worthy though." You clicked your tongue, wondering if this was all some fever dream brought on by the ninety-degree day.

"Oh stop it. Is there an IHop? I love IHop."

"You do?" You chuckled. Gwilym hummed with certainty.

"Alright." You spoke up, glancing in the rearview once more. Was he looking? "I'm sure we can track one down."

"Thanks, kid." There it was again, that pesky pet name. You didn't like it at all.

"Am I liable to call you old man?" You jabbed, making your feelings known in a light-hearted manner.

"Whoa now, I'll hang up and leave you alone with your broken radio." Gwil threatened. He remembered your telling him your radio was broken? You glanced in the rearview once more and noticed Gwilym holding up his middle finger.

"Hey!" You laughed.

"Eyes on the road!" Gwilym challenged. There were, in fact, shiny cars popcorning over the horizon.

"Alright, alright! Can you Google and drive? I'll be your eyes." You offered, driving ahead of the man.

"Hang on," Gwilym spoke. You smiled and bit your lip to withhold the burst of joy you wanted to scream out. "I've got one. I'm gonna pass you and take this adventure into my own hands if you don't mind."

You could hear Gwilym smile as his car sped up past yours in an instant.

"See ya at IHop old man!" You shouted, swiping the phone call to end before Gwilym could shout back.

Your brothers Buick zoomed past you and began to blend in with the waves of heat on the horizon. You prayed under your breath that the man leading your way wasn't just a mirage.

///

You sat across from your brother's best friend in a sticky old IHop booth while a family of six and an old married couple filled out the other corners of the restaurant. One waitress floated through the otherwise empty diner to cater to all of you as the sun set.

Gwilym ordered a tea and you warned he was going to be disappointed in the Americanized beverage. He shooed off your comment and relaxed in the booth while you sipped your coffee. You wondered how you ended up here, then you wondered how Gwilym ended up here.

"Have you really just come to town for my brother's silly party?" You suddenly quizzed. Dan threw what he called a "mixer" once every year, where all the friends he'd ever known were invited to drink bourbon and pretend it was fun being an adult. This year was a bit of a house warming party, and your whole family was invited.

"Sort of. I wanted to see him anyway and some other friends around LA." Gwilym offered, resting his head on the heel of his hand while he gazed at you.

"I see, I forgot you were a big rom-com star now." You chuckled. Of course, he was in Hollywood to mingle with other bright eyed up and comers.

But Gwilym just rolled his eyes and smiled as the waitress floated by to fill up your coffee cup.

"The last time I saw you was Easter in 2015, do you remember that?" Gwilym sat up a little, twirling his finger around the rim of his mug of tea. You tried really hard not to notice.

"I'm surprised you do. I was late to brunch and you left not long after I showed up." You recalled. That was when he hugged you goodbye, as he was leaving and you were just joining the rest of your family. He lingered around the dining table to finish some conversation with your father, but you don't remember him leaving.

"'Course I remember. You poured something from a flask into your coffee when your mum wasn't looking." Gwil gestured toward your warm cup and you winced in remembrance.

"Those were the days, huh?" You furrowed your brow even though you smiled, a little sick at the thought of drinking anything.

"They aren't anymore?" Gwil seemed to gently pry, and you weren't about to lie to him.

"No, I learned my lesson in the hospital." You shrugged, hoping to never stay that long on an IV drip ever again.

"What?" Gwilym asked. He seemed genuinely concerned and you hadn't realized he didn't know. Dan would usually warn anyone to keep an eye out on you in case you keeled over like you always used to morning noon and night.

"Yeah, I drank myself silly." You laughed, but it wasn't silly at all. That month was shit. "I haven't drank since January."

"Christ." Gwil shot his wide eyes toward you.

"It's a good thing! I like coffee much more, anyway."

"Than this," Gwil gestured around the eatery, "was the perfect choice."

Gwilym's smile was ultraviolet. You admired him in a way you might have anyone else, but the longer you took in his features, they became prettier by the second. You caught yourself staring, but that was usually the case. What caught you further off guard was the way Gwilym seemed to be just as in tune to your conversation as you were. LIke he really wanted to right here, in the middle of nowhere, with his best friend's kid sister.

He was too good to be true. Why had it taken you so long to realize?

///

That same night, you drove your friends back to your flat to the tune of their incessant teasing. You guessed you'd be shocked if Colin Firth showed up to crash your spontaneous slumber party, after watching Love Actually. So, you couldn't blame them, but you could block them out. You found your mind wandering to the weekend. You found yourself thinking of Gwilym.

Your brother's annual gala was three days later. Your parents swung by your flat and gave you a lift all the way across one town to the next so you could all attend your brother's first party in his new home.

You wore torn up mom jeans and a decent blouse, unbothered by most of the guests sporting their finest black-tie looks, like this was the waiting block for Mad Men auditions or something. Everyone was drinking and the smell alone made your blood curdle. You slinked through plastic Hollywood types and decided you didn't need to drink to have fun, or waste your time mingling.

You wound up in the posh den, in a leather recliner, directing your brother's dogs to do tricks. You got Vinny to start barking at his reflection in the flat screen tv , much to the annoyance of the passing guests. But someone was charmed by your antics. Gwyilm leaned against the door frame with a now-familiar smile.

"Vinny, look!" You pointed to the flatscreen while the giant dog spun around to start whining. Gwilym laughed at you, and you whipped your head to find him watching on, drink in hand.

"Are you having a good time?" Gwilym comically quizzed, scooting further into the room. He sat on the arm of the chair you occupied, holding his glass between his legs. You looked up at the British hunk and smiled.

"We are. Violet just learned to shake hands!" You quipped. The dog bounced over at the sound of her name and sat in front of you, ready to show off her new skills.

"Nice to meet you, lady." You teased, holding your palm in front of your brother's dog. Violet raised her paw into your hand and you smiled as you shook it.

"Well before we call the circus and send you off, you better say goodbye to your family. Your mum's been looking for you." Gwilym laughed, shaking his head as he sipped something dark.

God, how embarrassing. Did she send him to find you? Did she think you were passed out in the bushes or worse? With a pursed smile you stood and left the den to find your mother lounging in the living room with a few other, older guests.

"Oh, this is my youngest, Y/N. A very bright girl." Your mother gushed, grabbing on to your writs and pulling you toward the sofa as some middle-aged blonde lady smiled widely at you. Her name was Dawn and she was busy trying to one-up your mother in housewife points. You just gave a fake grin and spun around to find your father asking about your car troubles.

"It's all fixed and fine now." You assured. Dan appeared on the scene, boasting about how his friend Gwilym was kind enough to take you on that trip. Gwil was sitting back on the sofa, smiling at your father as Dan boosted his ego. But he deserved the praise.

"Gwil practically saved my life!" You pointed, spinning toward where the man was settled onto the love seat. In your classic dramatic flare, you flung yourself into Gwilym's lap without thinking. The time you'd spent with the man had stripped away the layer if unfamiliarity between the two of you. And you would have plopped into anyone of your friend's laps. You made sure to bring your hand to your forehead to ensure your swooning was just for show. Even if you happened to feel a swoop of endearment at the prospect of being so close to Gwil. He was stunning. And his fingers were cautiously hovering around you, as if he wanted to hold you but knew better. And as you scooted out of the man's lap toward the cushion beside him, you swore you saw a hunger in his sea-blue eyes.

"Alright, leave the acting to him, you're no good." Daniel batted your hair on his way across the room at the sound of his name being called.

Moments after you peeled yourself off of Gwilym Lee's lap, your sister showed up. You hadn't seen Roxanne in what felt like ages. On her arm, an unassuming botanist called Max, who seemed to be totally head over heels for your older sister. Boy was he in for a treat.

"Hello, Roxy." Gwilym smiled, resting his glass on the coffee table as he stood to greet your sister. And just like that, the usually demure girl practically melted. You couldn't blame her, not anymore. Not after you caught a glimpse at how warm Gwil's smile really was.

"This, uh, this is Max." Roxanne shoved her boyfriend between herself and Gwilym, a human shield. The equally as meek fellow seemed to look up to Gwilym with wonder in his eye. You realized that no one was safe from doing a double-take. Gwilym was just that great.

The party fizzled out. Before the last guests even left, Roxanne kissed her beau and skipped out to the pool house with you, deciding to spend the night for some much-needed one on one time. You stole some of Daniel's sweatshirts and snacks from your brother's home and locked yourselves into the private little hut in his back yard.

After nearly a full hour of listening to your sister gush over how much she liked Max and how their relationship was taking off, Roxanne got quiet.

"I didn't realize Gwil was in town." Roxanne sheepishly admitted, reaching to the bowl of popcorn between the two of you.

"Yeah, I was surprised too." You realized. "I can't believe you still have a thing for him."

Roxanne laughed and shook her head as if that was all behind her now. But then she bit her lip and looked at you to tell her secret.

"No harm in looking, right?" She shrugged. Roxanne really did seem happy with her new boyfriend. But anyone with eyes could see Gwilym's glow and would probably long to bask in it all the same. You weren't blind to that any longer.

///

Emma and Francine were busy sitting around your apartment doing nothing, terribly bored of it all. Tilly had gone back to visit her family while the summer raged on, leaving the three of you to your own usual devices. Your brother had asked you to stay a little while longer, but he and Gwil took the dogs to a hiking trail and you got bored alone in the pool house after your sister went home. So you drove back to your flat where your roommates decided to waste away together.

"There's nothing good on tv. And I don't wanna go out. Why is nothing fun anymore?" You complained. The days of dancing the night away seemed like a waste of time to you now. There had been lots of fun last year, and the ones before. Maybe too much fun. When you weren't drinking you were asleep in someone else's bed. Casual dating turned into some kind of game. And it all started when Francine challenged you to get with as many people as you could take a shot for. And naturally, you were down to take the drinking challenge, but you took way too many shots that night. And you started zipping through one night stands like it was your job and you needed extra rent. You felt nothing, numbed by so many drinks. And near the end of your manic episode, you thought that maybe the more people you shagged, you'd eventually feel for one of them. But that never happened. Even when you brought some of them home and tried to mold them into a little perfect box.

You had a lot of time to reevaluate in the hospital. You hoped with your new lease on life that meaning would seep back through your cracks. But sitting around your old dusty apartment bored you. Wasn't there any balance anymore? Your phone buzzed you out of deep thought.

Gwil: How'd you get Violet to shake your hand? She won't listen to me or Dan!

You: I'm a dog whisperer. ;)

"We could do arts and crafts!" Emma chirped like a hopeful preschooler.

"It's too hot to think of having fun." Francine moaned, sprawled across the sofa with her upper half sliding down toward the floor.

Your phone buzzed again. Gwilym responded with the meme of the angry-looking cat sitting at the dinner table. You let out a breathy laugh that fanned through your nose. Before you could think of responding Gwilym had sent another text.

Gwil: I'll find out your secret one day.

You: Take a hike!

He should have been trekking through scenic California mountains instead of sending you memes.

"Earth to Y/N! Why are you smiling at your phone like that when we're in the middle of a boredom crisis meeting?"

"What?" You blanched. Had you really been lost in the short-lived conversation between Gwilym and yourself? He was just too good to be true. Of course, you were transfixed by the lad.

"Yeah, who are you talking to? Is Stu back from Ibiza? Are you two hooking up again?" Francine challenged, sitting up on the sofa with a knowing grin.

"God no, not Stu. He stole my underwear. That fucking creep." You shivered at the memory of your very last and longest hookup. Emma grimaced in response, but Francine, like always, wasn't satisfied.

"So who is it then?" The girl's honey-brown eyes filled with mischief as she reached for your phone.

"Why do you think it has to be anybody?" You whined, trying to lean further back before Francine could launch her self toward you. But it was too late, she latched onto your cell like a falcon, and scanned the screen. Her lips turned into a wild smile while Emma turned her head in anticipation.

"It's Ned!" Francine let out a burst of laughter as you dove back toward her to rescue your stolen device.

"Ned from the movie?" Emma questioned.

"What other Ned's do you know, Emma?" Francine rang, allowing you to take back your phone.

"The dad from the Try Guys." Emma shrugged. You would have laughed if you didn't feel your stomach fall away. What was there to be so nervous about?

"Why is movie star Ned sending you memes? How do you even know him, again?" Francine sat straight up against some throw pillows to begin her interrogation.

"When Daniel moved to London for college, he and Gwilym became the best of friends." You sighed, reminding Francine of the name of the man she kept referring to.

"He sent you a meme, Y/N." Francine rose her brows like she was alluding to something more.

"After he drove you across the desert and back," Emma added, pointing your way.

"Yeah, I guess he's my friend too." You gapped. Well he was, wasn't he? Your phone buzzed again and everyone's eyes filled with curiosity as you kept your phone clutched to your chest.

"He's also a movie star!" Francine rang.

"Just because he was in some Australian rom-com doesn't mean anything-"

"What other movies has he been in? Maybe he's loaded and you guys can be Hollywoods new it couple." Emma cooed like she was dreaming for herself.

"I don't know- the last time I saw Gwil was years ago I hardly think-"

"Babe. I can tell you're into him so do away with excuses!" Francine leaned over the sofa to rest a hand on your knee.

"Guys, I'm just now really getting to know him..." You reasoned, trying like mad to pretend his gloriously pretty face wasn't always on your mind.

"He's hot. I'm talking mega beautiful. I don't blame you. And he basically already took you on a date." Francine remained trying to get you to crack.

"Uh, guys..." Emma was fixated on her phone screen when you and Francine whipped your heads toward the girl. She began to squeal through her teeth as she bolted from the pull out bed and skipped toward the coffee table to snatch the remote.

"What are you doing, Emma?" You asked but it sounded more like a warning. She only giggled as the tv buzzed to life. After a quick search on your shared Amazon account, a film from last year started to play.

"Are you trying to tell us that Gwilym is in Bohemian Rhapsody? Wasn't that nominated for a bunch of awards?" Francine focused on Emma who was staring at the screen in anticipation.

"Oh my God." You sighed. Not only did were you turned off by the thrill of seeing Gwil on screen, you felt horrible for not knowing your brother's best friend was in a damn blockbuster. Had you really been so far gone in party land that you were that blinded to the world around you? Francine picked up on your unease and tried to talk you into the spirit.

"He's probably just in the background for a second. But we have to watch it, so, Let's just get it over with."

Emma let out a nervous giggle as an actor opened his eyes on the screen. You literally held your breath while the film crept through the introduction. And then you saw him. Dawning a curly black wig and a smile that belonged to someone else.

"Oh no." You groaned at the exact moment Francine let out an excitable laugh.

"Your boyfriend is Brian May!" She squealed. Gwilym wasn't your boyfriend, but he was nearly identical to the guitarist of Queen. You loved their music. You loved their story. But you had totally missed the posters and promotions for the film that featured Gwil's name in lights. You decided then and there that you would never drink again. You and your friends watched the rest of the film in total rapture. Emma decided the blonde playing Roger was the new love of her life. Francine started to cry when the lad playing Freddie walked out of the doctor's office. You held her hand as the band kicked off Live Aid and when the credits rolled, Emma hit mute and you three stared at each other for a beat, lost for words.

"I sort of forgot all about Ned. He's a proper actor, isn't he?" Francine looked to you like she'd just seen a ghost. You could only muster a stunned nod of exact agreement.

"I just remembered something... my sister in law saw this in theaters like four times. She's totally obsessed with it. Let's call her!" Emma reached across the pull out bed to claim her cell phone before you could stop her.

"No, Emma this is ridiculous! It's not like I don't know Gwil." You reasoned.

"You just said that you were just getting to know him. And trust me when I say that no one knows an actor better than the fandom." Francine lifted her brow as if to prove a point. The girl was still obsessed with Supernatural, and would spout off info about the actors she kept up learning online. But it was all hearsay, wasn't it?

"That's insanely untrue, just so you know." You nodded to Francine, hoping to coax her out of that toxic mindset. The phone was ringing through Emma's speaker and before anyone could day more, someone answered.

"Susan! What do you know about Gwilym Lee?" Emma giggled, resting her phone on the bed with her speaker's volume all the way up. You buried your head in your hands as Francine wrapped an encouraging arm around your shoulder.

"You mean Brian May's clone?" Susan the sister in law crackled through the cell phone. She wasn't wrong. Halfway through the film, you'd nearly forgotten the real members of Queen weren't actually there.

"Is that a compliment? I mean really tell me about this guy. Sell him to me." Emma bargained, propping herself up on her elbows and kicking her feet behind her.

"Okay..." The girl on the phone breathed and suspense built up in your stomach while you waited for a stranger to list of facts about your brother's best friend. "Gwilym is perfect for starters. He's into sports and he's totally obsessed with his castmates. They still see each other all the time. Gwil seems totally devoted and passionate. Rumor has it he's engaged. The good ones are always taken."

You suddenly felt like a ghost of your former giddy self. Why should you have felt so sick? So what if he was engaged? He was just your friend. But friends were supposed to tell each other these sorts of things, weren't they?

"Engaged?" Emma squealed, practically causing the silky pull out bed to ripple from her risen octave.

"Well, it's just a rumor. There are no pictures of a ring or a girl or anything. But where there's smoke there's fire. Anyway, can I tell you about the rest of the cast?"

Francine sat up beside you, casting fiery eyes into yours as she reached for her phone to begin investigating for herself.

"No, I've gotta go." Emma hung up with no explanation, flinging her legs over the edge of the rickety couch bed.

"She's right, there's no evidence." Francine rang, turning her phone to me with a slim Google result list.

"Not to be a downer but I feel like there's gotta be something going on, right?" Emma glanced at you with big sad eyes.

"I- I don't know. Maybe he is? He's talked for ages about his family. Never said a word about a girl."

"That's because he's into you and he's on a great American fling. If there's a girl he's not going to say so." Francine reasoned. She was right. She had to be. Gwilym was too beautiful and endearing to have been single. You were just a good flirt.

I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction... 'cause I try and I...

Your phone was ringing. And your friend's eyes were glued to your every move. You were only a little shocked to find Gwilym's name flickering across your dim screen now. But as you snatched the phone to answer you felt your chest tighten between a rope of anxious nerves.

"Hi, Gwil." You tried to sound nonchalant as you stood up and pointed a warning finger to your friends. But they, of course, couldn't be expected to hold back their bursts of excitable chirps.

"Hi-"

"Hang on!" You warned, making a break for your bedroom. There was little hope your friends would settle their giggles because as they chased after you to beg to eavesdrop, they were squealing far too loudly. After dramatically flinging yourself behind your locked bedroom door you answered the phone once more.

"Okay! Hi!" You sighed, trying desperately to even out your breathing.

"Is this a bad time?" Gwilym quizzed over the phone. You cast your eyes across your well-kept room with a smile.

"No! Just... what's up?" You wondered in turn. No time was a bad time for Gwilym.

"Alright." The man let out a chuckle before continuing. "Well, this might be a stretch, but here it goes. I was going to bring Dan with me to a premier tomorrow. He had to cancel last minute for work, yet again. I've already got a plus one, so, would you like to come with me?"

"I'm second best, huh?" You laughed, stepping further into the room, past a stack of books around the corner.

"Well, first if you think about it! Dan called dibs, but I... well I called you."

Oh dear. You had to remind yourself to breathe as Gwilym went on to say,

"I think you'd get on well with my mates is all, and you seemed to have a free week. Asking seemed worth a shot."

"I see." You bit your lip. Was he really being as forward as he sounded? Was he really engaged? "Well, I'd love a night out. Only if you're sure though."

"Oh, I'm sure. Come round Dan's by seven?" You could hear him smile.

"Okay." You agreed while still holding your breath. "See you soon, Gwil."

What do I wear?

#gwilym x reader #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee #borhap fanfic